Who You'd Be Today
by Verbeia
Summary: For three years Hermione Granger had been missing, not knowing who she is. As for Malfoy, he has a mission to find the missing persons from the first war, and he's doing it for two different leaders, and reasons. Thus, the final battle is about to begin.
1. Chapter 1

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER ONE: DRINKIN' DARK WHISKEY**

* * *

**_Drinkin' dark whiskey,  
_****_Tellin' white lies.  
_****_One leads to another  
_****_On a Saturday night.  
_****_Don't ya cross your heart,  
_****_Unless you hope to die.  
_****_Drinkin' dark whiskey,  
_****_Tellin' white lies._**

**_Well, the first drop burns,  
_****_But the second one goes down smooth.  
_****_Then that old black label  
_****_Get a hold of you.  
_****_It loosens your tongue  
_****_But it never tells the truth._**

* * *

Three years had past since the end of the Second War. Without a doubt everyone agreed that the world had changed, especially Great Britain. There was argument though. Had the world changed for the better or for the worse?

Those who said that the world changed for the better were the Purebloods and supporters of the Dark Lord. Throughout his entire campaign these people were by his side agreeing that Muggles and Muggleborn witches and wizards were second class citizens. When the Dark Lord beckoned for them to come to his side, they obliged. Some in fear of their lives and others who had malicious minds agreed fully with his ideas and thoughts.

On the other hand those who thought that the world changed for the worse were the Order of the Phoenix, the Muggles, and those who did not chose a side. They wanted the end of Voldemort's cruel campaign of terrorizing Muggles and killing those who opposed him. Therefore, despite the dark side winning, the Order was still contemplating scenarios on how to destroy Voldemort. So far they had yet to find any brilliant ideas.

However the Order of the Phoenix had two spies. One that everybody knew quite well, yet the Dark Lord had not done anything with this spy; therefore the Order allowed him to keep his spy status, except that he no longer achieved any truly useful information.

On the other hand, the other spy was very useful. His own father was the Dark Lord's very own, personal right hand man, and he, the father, was training his son to take over his position as soon as he fell because during war and strife it was not known exactly if one would truly live through the night. And because he, Lucius Malfoy was a very well known Death Eater, death attempts were tried daily, however none had succeeded yet, or so the wizarding and Muggle communities believed.

Yet was the key word, since his father happened to be on death's row, mused a blond haired man about the age of twenty-one. He was sitting on a stool in a very dark, dingy pub waiting for a sign of his informant who happened to be twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds. He only knew this because he had a highly sophisticated watch that timed everything down to micro seconds, even though he could not comprehend what microseconds suggested. Therefore he usually ignored that part and concentrated on the parts that he could understand.

Like minutes and seconds. Plus hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades and centuries; but he personally hoped that he would not have to wait past a half-hour. But if his lord required it, he would do it to his up most displeasure.

Calling over a serving girl, he ordered indifferently, "A shot of whiskey."

The girl, a short dirty blonde haired, nodded her head, and started to walk away at a rather brisk pace. He was curious to why she walked away so fast, but his question was soon answered when she arrived mere seconds' later out of breath.

"Here is your drink, sir," she said politely. She bowed her head and he looked at her uniform. On her left shoulder was a large, solid red I.

"Muggleborn or a Muggle," he murmured to himself while the girl finished her bow and bolted out of his sight. He did not care though. He was thinking about the large letter on girl's uniform. Glancing at his own letter, he nearly swore. No wonder the poor girl had been frightened out of her wits because she had to serve him; he was wearing the badge of a respected Voldemort supporter.

He tore the badge off of his own shirt, and stuffed it into one of his pant's pockets. How could he have been so foolish? This was not a Dark Lord supporting pub; when he had first entered he had clearly seen the Phoenix at the entrance, but once inside the building and sitting down he had forgotten completely about his own badge because he was more concerned more about the complete imbecile that he considered a valuable ally even though throughout their years at Hogwarts they had fought like cats and dogs.

Not that it meant that things had not changed over the course of the past three years; they tried to remain somewhat civil in each other's company. However now that their beloved referee was missing, they behaved civilly towards each other in the hopes that between their combined efforts they would find her faster.

This philosophy had not been working to his displeasure. He still had no idea where she was, and he hoped that in the past month, his acquaintance found at least some sort of useful information. Not only did he and his acquaintance want to find her, but so did the Dark Lord because she happened to either know or had a valuable possession of his. Therefore the Dark Lord wanted her, either dead or alive, but preferably alive.

He took a long guzzle of his whiskey, and looked at his watch. He had now been waiting for twenty-nine and forty-six seconds.

Growling in the back of his throat, he asked, "Where are you Potter?"

"Right here," came a voice from behind him. He turned around slowly to see a man around his own age. He had black hair with a lightning shape scar on his forehead. His eyes were startlingly green, and his right arm was in a cast which looked years old.

The man, Potter, grinned sheepishly, "Sorry Malfoy, but I got a little tied up back there."

The blonde haired man, Malfoy, raised an eyebrow, so Potter decided to elaborate. "My fan club."

"Right," replied Malfoy,"I'm supposed to believe that one. Potter, I have more of a fan club than you'll ever have."

Before Potter replied, he went to sit down across the table from Malfoy then called over one of the serving girls. Unlike the one that served Malfoy, she was not the least bit frightened of Potter, but that was probably because he was proudly bearing the sign of the Phoenix on the back of his shirt.

"Hello, sir," she said, "What can I get for you today?"

"What he has," Potter replied, pointing at Malfoy's drink.

"Ah," she laughed. "So you are a whiskey drinker too?"

"Looks like I am today," grinned Potter.

"Well okay, I'll be back in minutes!" She waved flirtatiously and walked away. Potter watched with a slight smile upon his lips, meanwhile Malfoy frowned.

"What would Ginny say is she had seen you?"

"Hm?" asked Potter still watching the retreating girl's figure.

Sighing in annoyance, Malfoy asked again, "What would your girlfriend say is she saw you like this?"

Potter wrinkled his brow. "You mean my girlfriend?"

When Malfoy nodded his head, Potter sighed. "She wouldn't say anything," Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and Potter elaborated. "She would kill me then resurrect me, only to kill me again."

Malfoy made a fake sound of pity, and Potter glared at him. "Well, at least I have a girlfriend, unlike you Malfoy."

It was then Malfoy's turn to glare at Potter. "You know perfectly well that my girlfriend happens to be gone for a while."

Potter smirked, and leaned over the table so that he was closer to Malfoy. Whispering, he said, "You know perfectly well that she isn't gone for a little while, Malfoy. She is missing. You understand what the means don't you?"

"It means the same as gone, doesn't it?" replied Malfoy.

"No," said Potter. "Missing means that nobody knows her location, that she could be as good as dead and nobody would know."

"But you don't believe that she is dead, do you?" asked Draco. Potter shrugged and the serving girl arrived with his drink. Once the drink was set down on the table, Potter took a good guzzle out of it, and then rubbed the arm that was in the cast.

Forgetting about the original subject, Malfoy asked, "Potter, does that arm still bother you?"

Sighing, he replied, "Yeah, it still does, especially on rainy days."

"Then I guess in your luck," said Malfoy, "because it is raining today!"

Potter scowled at his companion. "At least it is not as bad as it was though. The Med witch though says that I'll never have use of it again."

"And that's bad how?" asked Malfoy knowing perfectly well what the answer would be.

Like always, Potter replied, "This is my wand arm, and if I don't have use of it-"

"You'll never be able to destroy the Dark Lord like you were destined to," finished Malfoy. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I felt like it," replied Malfoy crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. He watched Potter's puzzled expression in amusement, until finally Potter asked, "You were just trying to get the topic off of her again, weren't you?"

Malfoy sighed. "Guilty as charged," he admitted.

Potter gave a half grin, and said, "Well then I guess this is your lucky day then!"

"How?" asked Malfoy. "Unless you found her, then my day is awful."

Frowning slightly, Potter said, "I've not found her per se, but I think that I know where she is located."

Malfoy sat up straight, and asked urgently, "Where is she located, then?"

"Well let's go through the world," said Potter smirking. When Malfoy grumbled a few curse words, Potter's smirk increased if that was possible.

"So where do we begin," asked Malfoy annoyed.

"Well home is always best."

"Then get on with it."

"Fine," said Potter drawing out a map of the world. Pointing his left index finger at the tiny dot that represented the city of London, he said, "We are here."

"I knew that."

"Well just checking to see if you had any geography skills." Potter then circled his index finger around Great Britain and Ireland. "Voldemort has control over all these lands."

"No kidding," murmured Malfoy. "But I don't see how that helps."

"Just wait and see," said Potter. He moved his finger towards mainland Europe. "He has control all over this area,-" Moving his finger towards the Mediterranean Sea, he finished, "Except for these islands in the Mediterranean Sea."

"And that has anything to do with her how?" asked Malfoy looking up into Potter's eyes. His eyes were giving away nothing, so he took a deep breath and asked again. "What does the Mediterranean Sea have to do with Hermione?"

"Everything," said Potter after taking another hit from his whiskey.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, trying to indicate for Potter to elaborate which he finally did after a few minutes of silence.

"Just two days ago there was a fight in Turkey, you know what I'm talking about don't you?" Malfoy nodded his head. He remembered that particular fight. It had been on the beach near the Dardanelles. The cold weather did not stop either side from fighting the hardest, and he had ended up starting the fight with the Death Eaters, but throughout the tough fight, he managed to find a place with the Order. Luckily for him none of the Death Eaters saw his change of heart. If they had, he would have had a lot of explaining to do.

After the fight, the Death Eaters disappeared; it had been their worst defeat in a year, and the Order had scored the beach for survivors. Because he was a spy, Malfoy did not help with the clean up, but left to catch up with his fellow Death Eaters so that they would continue to be ignorant of his true loyalties.

"Well," said Potter, "while I was scoring the beach with Ron, we happened to discover an unconscious man on the beach"

"So?" asked Malfoy completely confused as to where this was leading.

"This man happened to be a Muggle-"

"And a Muggle wouldn't be fighting against the Death Eaters or with them," mused Malfoy rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Potter. "Ron and I thought it was unusual so we woke him up and asked where he came from."

"And what did he say?"

"He said that he came from an island."

"Which island?" asked Malfoy annoyed? "Do you realize how many islands there are in the Mediterranean Sea?"

Potter sighed. "I know perfectly well that there are many islands, so I asked the man if he could give us a better idea of the location."

"What did he say?"

"He said that where he came from it was peaceful. No fighting, no war, no Voldemort."

Malfoy cringed at hearing the Dark Lord's name. "Could you not say his name?"

Potter shrugged, and muttered, "Sorry." He took another chug of his whiskey, and put down the glass. "After we had that little bit of information, Ron and I did some research."

Interrupting, Malfoy gasped, "You and Weasely did research? I'm thoroughly impressed. I must tell Hermione as soon as I see her."

Scowling, Potter replied, "You go do that, but anyways I've done research before, even without her help."

"Sure I believe you," said Malfoy mockingly. "But that is off topic. I want to know what you discovered."

"Well," said Potter. "I looked at all the islands in the Mediterranean Sea, and all of them except two are controlled by Voldemort."

"That's a given," replied Malfoy. "These days the Dark Lord controls everything." Then he stopped, and looked at Potter suspiciously, "Did you say all but two are controlled by him?"

When Potter nodded his head, he asked, "Which two?"

"One of the tiny Aegean Sea islands and..." Potter did not finish. "It wouldn't matter anyways if I told you the second one. Nobody has seen or heard of it in ages and it is probable that it has been destroyed in the course of the years."

"I don't care if it was destroyed or not, just tell me the name of the island!" said Malfoy irate.

Potter looked down at his whiskey sheepishly. Slowly he said, "The Island is Crete."

" Crete?" asked Malfoy perplexed. "Isn't that one of the larger Mediterranean Sea islands?"

Potter nodded his head, Malfoy asked, "Then how could it not be under the control of the Dark Lord?"

Shrugging Potter said, "I don't know, that's why I said it might be destroyed, but with further research-"

"You did more research? Hermione will be very impressed."

Potter scowled, "Yes, I did more research. Anyways like I was saying before you interrupted me again-"

"I didn't interrupt you!" cried Malfoy indignant.

"Well you just did," huffed Potter. "Like I was saying, I found a weather report that showed the way the wind was blowing and the wind current for earlier that day. The longer I researched; I realized that there was a connection between Crete and the man."

"And it is?" said Malfoy trying to prod Potter into telling him more.

Taking a deep breath, Potter said, "And it is a perfect match up. The man came from Crete, and it has to be where she is."

Malfoy sighed. "Aren't you making too much of an assumption Potter? She's probably not there."

"But there is a chance that she is," argued Potter. "And if there is that chance, I want her back."

"And so do I," stated Malfoy. "But if she isn't, would you want to deal with all of the heartbreak again?"

Potter fell silent for a few seconds. He took a sip from his whiskey, and sat in a thoughtful posture. Finally after a few more uncomfortable, in Malfoy's perspective, seconds, he said, "I think we should take that chance." Then pointedly he stated, "And your Lord would wish it."

Growling from the back of his throat, Malfoy said, "You just had to mention him, didn't you?"

Smugly, Potter agreed, "Yes I did."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair. "Well I suppose you are right, Potter. This way we'll be killing two birds with one stone. I please my lord, as you so eloquently put it, and we'll find her."

"Which we've been planning for the last three years, unless I'm mistaken."

"No, you're right. It has been three years," he replied solemnly. "Three bloody long years... Probably the longest in my life." He took the last swig of his whiskey. "Well Potter, I should be going."

"As should I," agreed Potter. The two companions stood up simultaneously, and Potter began to walk towards the door. Malfoy however stood still and ended up being in his way.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly as Potter tried to move around him. "Because I don't want to be disappointed again."

Potter smiled sadly. "Neither do I, Malfoy. But we're going to have to take this chance because if we don't, we'll never find her."

Opening his mouth to reply, he suddenly shut it, and allowed Potter to walk around his chair. He watched him as he placed a rather large tip onto the table, and silently disappeared out of the pub, mostly likely through a secret door that only he would know about since Potter was the World's Savior.

For the rest of the hour he remained seated in the pub, gulping down large portions of the alcoholic drink until he felt the pain numbing in his chest. Malfoy stood up when the waitress walked over to his table, and requested, "Sir, it's closing time."

"Right," he mumbled drunkenly, swinging back and forth on his own two legs. It was time that he went to see the Dark Lord, to tell him about the news. In fact, if he was lucky, the Dark Lord would command him to go there himself, and he would be able to immediately see here.

But that was only if she was there; thus, Potter better be praying for his life that he was not lying, or even fabricating the truth about the gravity of the situation, or else Malfoy would be furious.

He swaggered out of the pub, into the street. Ignoring the strange looks as he tore his badge out of his pocket, and placed it on the front of his shirt, Malfoy Apparated to the Dark Lord's lair without a second thought.

Once he found himself in the receiving vestibule of the cave, he started to walk towards the entrance, but a lumbering presence stopped him.

"You aren't allowed in there, Sir," the large, lumbering presence sneered. "The Dark Lord requests no one's presence." He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to look threatening. If Malfoy had been anyone else, he would have been frightened, but after seeing the man's badge, he immediately knew that he held a higher rank, and did not have to listen to the guard.

"Goyle, it is Malfoy, thus, let me pass," he commanded, walking straight ahead, after placing a well performed _Sofoces _Charm on the man, since Malfoy figured he had been inconsiderately rude.

After giving Goyle a swift kick towards the ribs, Malfoy went to the door, using the secret password which was a sacrificial ritual the Dark Lord required all of his allies to use before speaking with him.

Cutting his finger along the edge of a nearby sharp rock, Malfoy put the spot of blood onto the bright ruby that represented the eye of a snake. Once he did that, the snake withered pain, and slithered towards the invisible knob, opening the door, thus allowing Malfoy into the room.

He walked into the room silently, seeing that the Dark Lord was currently pouring over volumes of texts, obviously in search of something of great importance. Squinting his eyes slightly, Malfoy noticed the book the Dark Lord was reading was named, _The Most Influential Witches and Wizards Ten Years Before the Millenium _by Liesel O'Brien.

"Can you believe this, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked, pointing at page number 483. "I'm ranked at number four! The absurdity of only being considered at only fourth! I would have at least expected to be in the top three, if not number one! But four?" The Dark Lord turned around to face Malfoy, and asked, "Say, should I kill this esteemed Liesel O'Brien for her questionable ranking, Draco?"

"Do as you please, my Lord," replied Malfoy, bowing down slightly, but immediately had to catch himself since he almost fell over. "For my opinion does not matter, because I'm merely a servant at your service."

Luckily, the Dark Lord had not seen his stumble, for currently he was waving his wand, casting a silent spell. Out of thin air appeared a bottle of wine and two china glasses. The Dark Lord poured two glasses, and beckoned for Malfoy to come over.

"Sit down Draco," he beckoned towards a plush seat that suddenly appeared from nowhere. He handed Malfoy a glass of wine, the stated, "Now, Draco, I take your opinion very seriously, just like your esteemed father who was so unfortunately caught and killed during you last year at Hogwarts."

Malfoy took a sip of the wine, and suddenly his eyes felt heavy. He nodded his head, as the Dark Lord continued, "Now, your father had wonderful ideas about the perfect world. In fact, the Badge System was his idea, which by the way I think was quite marvelous. Don't you agree, Draco?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied dutifully.

"The Badge System spreads fear throughout the world, does it not? And to make things even better, no one can make a counterfeit badge, all thanks to the wondrous Mudblood who we shall not mention," sneered the Dark Lord. He guzzled his glass of wine, and picked up the snake that had been sleeping at his feet. Stroking the snake's scales, the Dark Lord asked, "Now, I know I said I wouldn't speak of her, but have you any news of her whereabouts Draco? It is necessary that I know what she knows, because Draco, she knows something that I need to know. Or else, we won't know if we actually won the war."

"But, my Lord, we won the war three years ago," stated Malfoy.

"Then why are we still fighting?" asked the Dark Lord. When Malfoy did not reply, he answered, "Because the incongruible Order of the Phoenix still thinks they have a chance to beat me eventually, but I'll tell you this boy, it's all in vain." He poured himself another glass of wine, and took a sip delicately. Looking over the top of the glass, he said, "I'm never going to lose this power."

Malfoy nodded his head in agreement, even though in his drunken state he was protest furiously inside his head. "Yes, my Lord. You shall always have power."

"That is right my boy," the Dark Lord said, nodding his head. "But even I won't be able to live forever. That is why, if you tell me any information about that Mudblood Hermione Granger, I shall make you my successor."

Immediately Malfoy was taken aback, "Successor?"

"Yes, my successor," said the Dark Lord. "Now, what do you know?"

"An acquaintance of mine who does not know my true position told me about a Mediterranean island," began Malfoy. The Dark Lord attention piqued interest, as he continued, "This person said that this island, Crete, had simply disappeared off the face of the planet, and this person suspects that war refugees might be hiding on said island."

" Crete?" repeated the Dark Lord, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I've never thought about it much before. I suppose it is possible that she and others might be there."

Malfoy nodded his head, waiting for the Dark Lord's answer, and finally he said, "Draco, I give you my permission to take an expedition of Death Eaters to Crete, and if you find the Mudblood, preferable alive, bring her back here immediately."

Standing up immediately, Malfoy went to the exit, almost tripping over his own feet, but caught himself before he could fall. He turned around, "I'll leave immediately for Crete, by your permission of course, my Lord."

"Go Draco," the Dark Lord waved indolently, "But may I suggest that you lay off on liquor for a while. It is necessary that you are in top physical and mental conditions if you are to succeed."

"Yes my Lord," replied Malfoy, bowing, and he stumbled out of the Dark Lord's lair and into the vestibule where Goyle still laid, unconscious.

Muttering the counter curse silently, Goyle's eyes popped open, and he muttered dumbly, "What happened?" His stomach growled, and he took out a fat slab of chocolate from his back pocket that was thoroughly melted. As Goyle was about to put the piece into his mouth, Malfoy snatched it away.

"I have a proposition for you, Goyle," he sneered. "Which will require you to listen, not feed on gruesome pieces of food that are not fit for a person of your status?" Thus, Malfoy threw the slab of chocolate onto the dirt floor and squashed it with the tip of toes.

Looking mournfully at the chocolate, Goyle asked, "Why did you do that Draco?"

Malfoy sighed in exasperation, "I demand that you find a group of six willing Death Eater who want to go on a short excursion to an island."

"For vacation?" asked Goyle hopefully.

"No!" snapped Malfoy. "To follow the Dark Lord's commands of course. He wants a group to find Crete and invade the island." Goyle gave Malfoy a blank look, and finally he snapped, "Just do it! You don't need to know any more!"

Malfoy crossed his arms and Apparated out of the room, not caring that Goyle was still looking at him blankly. Frankly, he did not care for he was tired, and needed to sleep off the large amounts of alcohol he had consumed throughout the evening.

When he appeared in his living room, he immediately walked to his bedroom. He did not bother taking off his clothes, instead, he just fell onto the bed, and promptly fell asleep, not caring what would happen the next day, or even two, or one year, or for the rest of his life.

He just wanted to sleep, and forget about his life. After all, it was not easy to tell little white lies to the two most powerful men in the country, if not the world.

* * *

**A/N**

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Who You'd Be Today. Remember, I don't own Harry Potter, or the song. Thanks for reading, and I would appreciate it if you review.

**Verbeia**

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER TWO: WILD ONE**

* * *

**_She had future plans and dreams at night;  
_****_When they tell her life is hard,  
_****_She says that's alright._**

**_She's a wild one  
_****_With an angel's face.  
_****_She's a woman-child  
_****_In a state of grace.  
_****_When she was three years old on her daddy's knee  
_****_He said you can be anything you want to be.  
_****_She's a wild one  
_****_Runnin' free._**

* * *

It was three years since she had been on the island, and the bushy brown haired woman was staring out at the waves crashing against the beach, wondering about the past. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt. Her hair was blowing in the wind wildly, and her facial expression was one of those of pain; of agony. 

This woman had no memory of who she was, or how she ended up here on the island, not that she knew for sure that this was an island, but she had guessed it, and she knew, somehow, that her assumptions were usually correct.

But still, she had no idea of who she was in her past and that was making her angry. Yet, she had one clue, a locket with two pictures. The picture on the right side showed a man and woman looking comfortable in each other's presence. She did not know who either one of these people were, but when a close friend saw the pictures, she stated that the couple must be her parents since she had the same build as the woman, and had the man's bushy hair.

As for the picture on the other side, it was of two boys, around her age, or perhaps a bit younger. One of the boys had dark, constantly wind swept hair with startling green eyes. Equally startling on his face was a lightning shaped scar. He looked genuinely happy, but in the distance, his eyes betrayed his happiness. It was almost as if he felt like he carried a heavy burden.

The other boy was a redhead with obvious mirth showing through his eyes. He had a rather large nose, but unlike others, the large nose did not destroy his face, in fact it gave him personality. Not to mention, upon further inspection, since she often inspected the picture, the nose looked like it had been broken once, or even twice.

Both boys had multiple scars across their faces, none of them as terrible as the dark haired boy's lightning shaped one though. However, she couldn't help but thinking that they obvious had a arduous life with death and difficulty.

Too bad she couldn't remember why they had such a difficult life.

In fact, it would be nice to know who either one of them were in the first place. She only knew three things living in this place. Her initials were HJG, thus she was called Helen by the others. She was rather intelligent, and felt a fierce sense of loyalty towards others, especially others. Finally, she knew that the locket that she wore constantly around her neck had a greater importance than just remembering her friends.

"Helen?" called a voice behind the woman. "Are you here? Mikhail said you went in this direction over an hour ago! I know water is fascinating and all, but honestly, do you have to constantly watch it?"

The woman, Helen, did not reply to the other woman. Instead she stared even more intently out over the sea. In the distance, she could see mountains, but she did not know where they were located, or even if they were mountains, and not an illusion that her brain was creating.

Walking up behind her, out of breath, the other woman asked, "Helen? Are you here with me, or are you slowly turning dead? Because you sure are acting like it."

"Dunite Pier, I'm not slowly turning dead as you so eloquently put it," replied Helen, wearily, not turning around to face her friend. "Besides the water is peaceful."

"Right," said Dunite sarcastically, looking across the waters. "The ocean, or sea, or whatever this is so peaceful, unlike the rest of the town, where we are constantly fighting over foot room. Yup, it is so awful living here."

Helen rolled her eyes, "That was not what I meant."

"Oh, then what did you really mean?" asked Dunite, crossing her arms. "Do you come out here merely to think without having fifteen hundred people breathing down your neck? Well, Helen, that just means that we have to work on your people skills."

"My people skills are perfectly fine," snapped Helen, finally facing the other woman. "I just come here to think, to think about the past."

Dunite's features softened, "Oh, so you're still worried about that?"

They stood in silence for a while, until Helen finally nodded her head. She glanced back across the waters, and murmured into the wind. "I'm just worried about what's happening in the rest of the world. There has to be a reason why we're here, any why we don't communicate with anyone or anything that does not live here. I'm just finding it incredibly strange, not to mention that I'm still worried about Old Man Nathan who was swept away in the last storm only a week ago, and still nobody has heard a peep from him."

"Then he's probably dead," stated Dunite softly, remembering the terrible storm. Towards the East, they had seen the fiercest storm. Lightning, thunder, dark clouds, and strange lights that did not resemble anything that anyone had ever seen before.

However, Helen, among a few others, slightly recognized the strange lights, but the memories were so far away that none of them could pull them out without damaging their self mentally. Only Old Man Nathan seemed to truly recognize the lights, for he began to walk towards the East side of town, mumbling about such nonsense of wizards, war, and danger to Muggles.

Helen had caught up with him and asked about everything he knew. He replied, saying that he never could do magic himself, but his brother could, and talked about all sorts of wonders in the world that no one could truly understand unless they saw it themselves. He added that most people would still not be able to understand it if they tried. As he walked to the edge of the cliff, he mentioned that he still believed that the world could still be saved from You-Know-Who, and that keeping innocents out of the way was a great benefit.

Before Helen could ask any questions, a huge wave came from literally nowhere, pushing them around. However, Helen was able to grab a strong branch, but Old Man Nathan was not as lucky. As the water receded back into the ocean, the old, withered man was pulled along.

She had watched his disappearance with abhor, and afterwards run straight back to the village of over a thousand strangers. Literally no one knew another person; hardly anyone remembered anything about their past, and those who did remember often remembered strange facts such as a city they passed through on their way to a nice Holiday, or reading a long book by Leon Trotsky.

That was Helen's job. She went around, person to person, asking questions about what they remembered from their past life. Some were very basic, only remembering how to find food and survive, while others remembered more complex jobs, such as building a house or creating electricity. Others still remembered different locations and the names.

Once, Helen managed to find someone who drew a map of the world onto a piece of paper. Currently that world map was sitting in the head office, slowly gaining names of different locations when someone suddenly regained a memory.

That morning Dunite remembered the name of the country she was born in was called France, and she lived in a town near Paris. Grinning widely, she dragged Helen to her office, and pointed towards the two locations on the map. To her disappointment though, both France and Paris were already labeled, but she also remembered that her mother lived near the Loire River, and then pointed out the Seine River, thus she became much happier yet again.

The ones though that Helen found the most fascinating were those who remembered history. Some remembered recent events, constantly mentioning death and fear because of magic, which Helen could not understand well. However, others remembered historical events such as Napoleon conquering Europe, and Adolph Hitler's determination to annihilate a certain group of people that the old woman could not remember.

Still, Helen found their stories fascinating, and sometimes she could hardly imagine that they were true and not some dream that the men and women were passing off as fact.

But then again, Helen was just jealous that they had something to remember, while she could not remember anything that happened before three years ago.

"He's not dead, Dunite," replied Helen shivering in the slowly chilling breeze. Suddenly she felt melancholic, as if she would never be happy again in her entire life. "I can just feel it."

"I doubt it," replied Dunite, shivering too. "But I will believe you, for your sake."

Helen smiled weakly, and began to walk down the beaten old path that she had been using daily for three years straight. "We better head back to the village, Dunite."

She nodded her head, and followed in step behind Helen who led the way. They passed through a sparse forest of deciduous trees that seemed to never lose their leaves. Using the process of elimination a two years ago, Helen had decided they lived further South than when she was young. For some reason she often dreamed of snow, but when she told Dunite, her friend said no such thing existed.

They followed a small creek running through the forest, and soon entered the village where most of the others were currently preparing for the night's supper. Instead of making everyone serve themselves, Helen and a group of women decided it would be best to find those who knew how to cook; therefore, they could prepare a meal for a certain number of others.

Thus, over a hundred men and women appeared before Helen, claiming that they remembered how to cook. Believing each and every one of them, Helen sorted the entire village, or the past camp, into groups of ten, or around at least around that number.

Since that day, her idea worked fairly well. There had been some resorting because of discontent citizens, but eventually everyone was content with their duty.

"Helen and Dunite!" exclaimed a woman with bright blonde hair, worn in a ponytail, from an adjacent white house. "I was starting to wonder where you were."

The woman ran over to give both Helen and Dunite a giant, motherly hug, and pulled them towards the house, "Mikhail was telling me that you were watching the waters again, but really, Helen, how exiting can that be? And as for you Dunite, why didn't you bring her back sooner?"

"I was trying," said Dunite indignantly, "But I don't think you realize how stubborn that bushy haired know-it-all can be!"

"I'm not a know-it-all!" exclaimed Helen, placing her hands onto her hips. "And neither am I bushy-haired!"

"Then you haven't looked in a mirror lately," smirked Dunite, watching Helen's face blanch. "Because you really need to shower."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation of the younger women's antics, the woman requested, "Could you two please stop arguing over mundane subjects? Everyone is inside already, ready to start eating."

Dunite and Helen glared at each other, pretending to loathe one and another, but truth was, they often played the game. They followed the woman into the house, and watched as the man at the head of the table greeted her.

"Marguerite, you're finally here!" he greeted fondly. "I take it that you found the trouble duo?"

"Trouble duo is putting things lightly Mikhail," she replied. "But, as you can see with your very own two eyes, our lovely Dunite and intelligent Helen are right here."

"By Jeeves, you're right!" he exclaimed, standing up, and beckoning Helen and Dunite towards him. "Sit down, sit down, and tuck yourselves into Marguerite and Ina's delicious meal! When are you ever going to taste anything to the like again in your life?"

Helen sat down next to the older man, while Dunite sat opposite of her. Marguerite went to sit across from Mikhail, and served the men and women nearest to her the pot of boiling soup. Another one was on the other side of the table, and Mikhail dumped generous servings into their bowls.

Picking up the spoon, and putting the fat piece of carrot into her mouth, Helen gave a sigh of contentment. "You're right Mikhail. This is excellent."

"I know," he responded, patting his belly. "Even though I've been married to her for all of six months, I've felt like I've gained too much weight, and it's that entire bloody woman's fault."

Across the table, Marguerite put down her own spoon, and turned away from the woman she was talking to. "You're not badmouthing me to Helen, are you Mikhail?"

"Of course not, sweetheart," he replied, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm just mentioning to Helen here that we'll all gain weight when we eat your food."

Marguerite scowled at her husband, and turned her attention back to her end of the table.

Helen continued to eat, and the merriment around the table reminded her of a place and time in her past, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Just like now, there had been lots of joking and teasing; everyone knew each other well. But this was completely different, because for all that Marguerite or Mikhail knew; they could be currently married to someone else that wasn't living on the island.

It was the same for the others too. Lots of people had gotten married, merely because they met someone who they loved, and wanted to have a new life with. After all, that was what most people came to believe. This village was a place for them to start anew from the other world, and what is better than finding a love?

"Hey, Helen?" asked Dunite, looking at her friend expectantly. When Helen did not respond, she prompted, "Earth to Helen, the library is burning down, and you're precious books have already been destroyed. Don't you care?"

Gaining Helen's attention, who suddenly sat up straight and looked around. "Where's the fire?" However, Dunite and Mikhail were laughing heartily, which gained a scowl from Helen. "That was not funny, Dunite."

"Maybe not for you," she replied, "But that was the only way to gain your attention, since you were in dreamland yet again."

"I was not in dreamland," Helen protested. "I was merely thinking."

"Right," said Dunite nodding her head. "So what's the difference?"

Before Helen could reply, Mikhail interrupted, "There is no difference between thinking and dreaming, especially when in concerns you, Helen."

Helen gave a huff, but then asked, "What did you want anyways, Dunite?"

Smirking, Dunite replied, "Who was that really fat, creepy looking man, holding a wooden stick walking around the village this afternoon. Nobody recognized him, and if anybody would, it would have to be you, Helen."

Furrowing her brow, Helen asked, "You saw a really fat, creepy looking man, holding a wooden stick, walking around the village this afternoon, and only now you decide to tell me?"

Dunite bit her lip, "Yes?"

"Do you remember where he went afterwards?" asked Helen rubbing her head, as if she had a headache.

Shaking her head, Dunite indicated no, while Mikhail said, "He went to the Northwest as soon as everyone started going into their houses."

"Did anyone follow him?" asked Helen. When Dunite and Mikhail shook their heads, she sighed, "Why not?"

"Because we only thought he was some strange man who has always lived here, we really didn't think he could potentially be dangerous," replied Dunite.

Helen bit her lip, "Anyone that you don't know can be dangerous, Dunite."

Shrugging, Dunite replied, "Well, I just thought he was creepy, nothing strange."

Mikhail nodded his head in agreement, and Helen said, "Oh well. But if you see him again, please inform me immediately, because I need to know the reason why he is here."

"Alright," agreed Mikhail, while Dunite nodded her head. "I'll tell the others what you said, too."

"Good," replied Helen. "That means everyone will be on the lookout for him, and don't forget to remind everyone that they should tell me if they do see him, okay?"

"Okay," said Dunite and Mikhail simultaneously. Helen smiled pleased, and went back to finishing her soup, listening to the merry and unconcerned talk.

---------------

_"Sweetie, you can become anything you want to be," said a man. She was sitting on his lap, head resting against his chest. She always felt comfortable when she was with him; after all he was her father. _

_"Anything?" she asked. "So I could become mommy? Because I think mommy's perfect!"_

_Her father rumbled with laughter, "I think you're mother's perfect too. But don't you want to become an astronaut, a nurse, or something?"_

_"What's an astronaut?" she asked confused. "I've never heard of that before."_

_"Well," her father began. "An astronaut goes into outer space, to see the stars, the moon, and the other planets."_

_"Is that a fun job?" she asked. "Because it sounds scary." She hid her head further into his chest, and he laughed again._

_"Maybe it would be best to keep your feet on the ground, sweetie," he replied, "But that's not a bad idea; that means your mommy and I wouldn't have to constantly worry."_

_"You'd worry anyways," she replied, tired. "That's your job." She snuggled, and swiftly drifted off into a deep sleep._

Helen immediately woke up, sighing. It was memory, she knew that much, but what was the significant meaning of it, other than saying that she could become anything? At least it was a memory though; she hardly received any during her stay.

Therefore, she pulled herself out of bed, and grabbed her writing pad. She began to write down everything that she could remember, from what he said, to what she said. Then she described what they looked like, and the room with its various belongings. By the time she finished with all that she could remember, for it rapidly went away, a knock came from the door.

"Helen?" said the voice, which she recognized as Dunite. "Are you up yet?"

"I'm up," she called, putting away the writing pad. She chose an outfit from her closet, and quickly changed. "I'm just getting ready."

"Oh, good," replied Dunite. "Because Mikhail sighted creepy, fat guy, holding a wooden stick walking around the edge of town towards the Northwest."

Jumping up, Helen grabbed her shoes, and raced out of the door, nearly knocking Dunite over. "Is he still there?"

Dunite nodded her head, "He's still there, and that's why I came here immediately. Mikhail's still watching him.""

"Good," replied Helen, pulling on her shoes, and lacing them up quickly. Once she was done, she stood up, and requested, "Take me there."

"Done," was Dunite's curt reply.

Helen raced after Dunite as she raced towards the Northwestern part of the village. Soon, they caught sight of Mikhail, and Dunite lead them towards the man, watching to see if he still saw the man. Since he did not look up at them as they neared, obviously the man was still frolicking around.

"Where is he?" asked Helen, squatting next to Mikhail behind a barrel. "Is he alone still?"

Mikhail replied, "He's right there-" He pointed towards an old broken down house that was not part of the village, since it was ancient and decrepit. "It looks like he's waiting for someone or something, since he keeps on pacing around."

"Right," said Helen, peeking over the barrel. She immediately saw the man, and couldn't help but thinking that Dunite had given him an accurate portrayal. Whispering, she said, "Dunite, you gave the perfect description."

Dunite smirked, "I know." But she sobered, "What are you going to do, Helen?"

Biting her lip, Helen thought about it for a few seconds, but suddenly she knew what she had to do. "I'm going to speak to him."

"What!" exclaimed Mikhail. "What if he's dangerous?"

Helen shrugged, "He can't be that dangerous, because look at all that excess fat that he has to carry around. Nobody that fat can do serious harm to me."

They gave her a look, so she amended, "Only if I stay a few feet away."

Mikhail nodded his head, while Dunite still looked skeptical. "He could still harm you, Helen. Just look at the way he carries that stick!"

Looking back at the stick, Helen couldn't help but agreeing with her friend that it did look potentially dangerous. He was walking around as if it could seriously harm someone, in a way that they would not suspect. In fact, the stick looked like it had been well taken care of, since it was polished to a shiny dark brown, gleaming in the bright sunshine. Upon further inspection, Helen could tell that he was holding it by a handle, which was surprising.

"I'll be extremely careful," whispered Helen, suddenly frightened that the man was not as lumbering or as stupid as he looked. "We don't know what kind of threat he holds, so keep everyone away from this area, okay?"

Mikhail and Dunite nodded their heads, so Helen stood up, brushing off all the debris that had accumulated on her jeans and T-shirt. Looking stern, and rather frightening, she walked around the barrel and towards the man. Mikhail and Dunite watched abhorred and incredibly frightened for their friend.

"Hello, sir," greeted Helen. "I welcome you to our humble village." She smiled brightly, and the man looked up in surprise.

"Um," he said stupidly. "Who are you?"

Her smile brightened even further, even though it was all being forced. "My name is Helen, and yours would be?"

"Goyle," he replied. "Gregory Goyle."

"How nice!" she shrieked excitedly. "I've always wanted to meet someone named Gregory!"

"Oh," he replied, perplexed at her reaction. He rubbed his head, and then asked bluntly, "Do you know Her-mee-own-nee?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Who are you asking for?"

"Her-mee-own-nee," he answered. "Draco wants her because the Dark Lord wants her."

Helen's face blanched slightly, "Why do they want her?"

"Because she has something important," he answered, rubbing his head slightly. "But I don't know why."

She was about to reply, when unexpectedly he sat down on the ground, and looked like he was in pain. She watched fascinated, and tried to figure out why his expression looked so pained, when suddenly she realized that he was thinking. Almost wanting to giggle, Helen restrained herself, and waited until he was finished.

Shrugging, Goyle said while standing up clumsily, "I don't know."

Helen looked down at the ground, disappointment written clearly across her features, which caused Goyle to kneel down in front of her pleading for his very life. "Please don't kill me, Mistress! I promise I will find the reason why they want Granger! I'm absolutely, positively sure that Draco would know the reason! I'll go talk to him right now, and when I know for sure, I'll come back here. Is that alright with you? Please say yes!"

Taken aback, Helen replied nervously, "Um, that's fine Mister Gregory Goyle. Please take your time. It was more out of idle curiosity than anything else. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't planning on making any mischief in our village. But seeing how you're just looking for some poor woman, who probably doesn't even remember who she really is, I suppose it's alright that you continue doing what you're doing."

She shrugged one last time, perplexed. "Just don't make any mischief, or else there'll be serious consequences."

Goyle nervously nodded his head, and rushed off into the forest, causing Helen to look blankly at the spot which he had previously occupied, only seconds before. For a fat man, he sure did run fast, and in his absent mind, he had left behind the wooden stick he had held so preciously.

Tentatively, Helen walked to the wooden stick, and when nothing happened, she slowly reached down, and touched its wooden handle. When nothing occurred yet again, she picked it up all the way, and inspected it carefully.

It looked exactly like what she thought it had looked like from afar. The wood was gleaming, and it was in perfect condition, or at least compared to another tree branch. There was a handle, and it was surprisingly heavy for the size.

Perplexed, Helen felt a small shiver go through her spine, and she had a feeling that the wooden stick should be waved around.

So, feeling rather foolish, especially because she knew Mikhail and Dunite were watching, she gave the stick a little wave, and to her bewilderment, golden sparks came from the other end.

She quickly dropped the stick, and stepped back. She heard heavy foot steps rush towards the area in which she was standing. Staring at the stick in both horror and fascination, she was not surprised when Dunite asked a question.

"What on Earth is that thing?" she asked. "I knew it was weird from the beginning, but this is just plain creep."

Helen shrugged, and opened her mouth, but then closed it. "I don't know what it is, Dunite. I've never seen anything like it before in my life."

"You might have," reminded Mikhail, "Since you don't remember anything from your past."

"True," she replied. "But this _thing _is just too weird, and strange. I don't think that I would have associated with it in the past, and I especially won't associate with it now."

Biting her lip nervously, Dunite asked, "Do you think those weird sparkly things will come out of it again if I give it a wave?"

"There's only one way to find out," answered Mikhail, slowly reaching out, and picking up the piece of wood. "We'll have to do it too." He gave it a little wave, and sparks shot out of it, but this time spreading throughout the forest in a dazzling display. They watched fascinated, and Dunite grabbed the stick.

Gushing, she said, "That was so cool! Let me try!" She whished the stick, and to her disappointment only a minute bronze spark was created.

Frowning, she requested, "Let me tray again, because that was only a practice trial." Helen was about to disagree, when she swished the stick again, only creating another small spark, but this time a dreary blue. Crossing her arms, Dunite whined, "This stick doesn't like me!"

"Then I suggest you find a different core," sneered a voice behind them. "I don't think newt's brain is your element."

They all whisked around to face the new presence, which happened to be a man, about the same age as Dunite and Helen, who had the blondest, slicked back hair that any one of them had seen before.

Walking casually towards them, he continued, "But then again, most people are too smart to earn themselves a new brain, for you know what that means right?"

"Stupidity?" suggested Helen, confused. After all, she did not truly understand what the man was speaking off, but she was pretty sure that he was not giving Gregory Goyle a compliment on his intelligence. If their earlier conversation had proved anything, it was that he was not the brightest star in the sky. He was probably one of the stars that one would never be able to see unless one used an extremely powerful microscope.

The man nodded his head. "Correct. Anyone with a newt's brain core for their wand is obviously worse than a simpleton. They are downright unintelligent, and practically half-witted, or should I say one-eighth witted at the most?"

Neither one of them looked up at the man as he said his rant. When he finished, he stuck his right hand at all of them, as if telling them to shake it. "By the way, I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Helen accepted his hand, and as they shook, she replied, "I'm Helen, and my two friends are Dunite Pier and Mikhail."

"Pleased to meet you," he said, and then looked up into his new acquaintance's face. Looking like he had seen a ghost, Malfoy gasped, "Hermione?"

Promptly Helen fainted as more dangerous men, and creepy looking monsters entered the area of where they were standing.

* * *

**A/N**

The second part is complete. I would like to thank my two reviewers, and I would also like to apologize for any confusion concernining Lucius Malfoy in the first chapter. He is dead, not alive.

Like always, I don't own Harry Potter or even the song at the beginning. They belong to other people, which is obviously not me. I would be apreciative if you realized that fact.

Anyways, thank you for reading, and I would be delighted if you would review.

**Verbeia**


	3. Chapter 3

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER THREE: I KNOW WHY THE RIVER RUNS**

* * *

**_I know why the river runs  
_****_To a place somewhere far away.  
_****_I know why the sky is cryin'  
_****_When there aren't any words to say._**

**_I could play the message that you left for me;  
_****_I can hear your voice and I could still believe  
_****_That you will soon be home,  
_****_But you will never come._**

**_I know why the river runs  
_****_To a place somewhere far away.  
_****_I know why the sky is cryin'  
_****_When there aren't any words to say._**

**_There's a silence that I don't want to hear.  
_****_There's a hole now where my heart used to be.  
_****_They say that healing comes in time  
_****_But I don't know what that means._**

* * *

Helen opened her eyes, only to find Dunite's worried gaze looking down towards her. Slowly and carefully, Helen began to sit up, while Dunite shook her head.

"Marguerite ordered me to tell you- or should I say _order _you to stay in bed until you feel well. Knowing Marguerite though, she'll probably have you in bed for the next year," said Dunite, stepping away from the bed. She went over to a small table in the room, and poured a glass of water.

After handing the glass of water to Helen, Dunite smiled, "But I'm glad you're alright. You gave us all a scare when you fainted. Especially that Draco Malfoy fellow. After you fainted, he went ballistic."

Helen raised an eyebrow, and repeated slowly, "He went ballistic."

Nodding her head enthusiastically, Dunite said, "That's right. He went absolutely crazy. He was yelling at that creepy man, his name's Goyle, right?"

Helen agreed, "His name is Gregory Goyle."

"That's what I thought," acknowledged Dunite. "But that's beside the point. The point is that Draco Malfoy-"

Holding a hand up to her head that suddenly started aching at the mention of the man's name, Helen asked, "Could you please refrain from using his name constantly?"

Dunite looked confused. "You want me stop saying Draco-"

"Yes," said Helen, back stiff and alert. "I have an ominous feeling that he's no good." She shivered quickly at the thought of evil, which she could hardly imagine, but she knew it existed. The locket around her neck was proof enough. It had to be evil if she didn't know why she wasn't with the ones that she loved and cared for so much.

If she cared for them, she would have never left them. That was the truth. However, if something evil and awful occurred, then it would make perfect sense why she wasn't with them currently.

"Not good as in evil?" Dunite asked timidly. "Or not good as in dangerous?"

Helen shrugged, "Aren't they the same thing?"

"No," replied Dunite shaking her head. "Evil means cruel and horrible. Possibly even dangerous. On the other hand, dangerous is just dangerous."

Rolling her eyes, Helen said, "That's real descriptive, Dunite. I applaud you for your wonderful definitions. Evil is cruel and dangerous is dangerous. Now, my definition of evil is this: Volde-" Suddenly Helen shook her head, and Dunite creased her brows together.

"Volde- who?" she asked, apprehensively. Obviously her friend knew something, or just had some sort of memory or thought. However, before she could complete the thought, she had lost it to the dark abyss of her memory.

Helen shrugged, "I don't know Dunite. And it's starting to scare me." She turned a pallid color, and whispered, "I recognize his name, and I don't even know why I recognize it. Then, I hate him. For some unknown reason, I hate him with my entire being, and I don't even know why."

"Talk about prejudice at its worst," Dunite mumbled, but Helen ignored the comment and continued on.

"I also feel like he knows me, because he was looking at me as if he had seen a ghost. At the time, I thought something similar, but just thought I knew him, because he was a stranger from the mainland, that had came to save me, and my memory. But, now I'm just not sure."

Helen shuddered, and began to climb out of the bed shakily. As her feet touched the floor, Dunite said, "You aren't well enough to face him, Helen. Just rest a little bit longer."

Standing up, Helen shook her head, which caused Dunite to sigh in annoyance "No, I have to do this now, or I'll never be able to relax and sleep properly in order to heal."

As she walked slowly towards the door, head held up high, Helen managed to trip over her own two feet, which caused Duite to race forward, and catch her falling friend before she hurt herself beyond repair.

"Thanks," mumbled Helen awkwardly, realizing that Dunite was correct. She was not ready to over exert or exhaust herself. If she did so, it might be the last time she ever did something. "I think I might need your help."

Dunite smiled, "I'll help." The blonde haired woman helped Helen to steady herself upon her own two feet, and once they were sure she would not suddenly fall over, Dunite helped her friend to put an arm around her shoulder. Eventually, they were ready to walk around the edifice.

Struggling slightly to open the door, Dunite said, "Helen, you are lucky."

"Lucky?" asked Helen, raising her eyebrows. "How on Earth am I lucky?"

"Well, for one thing, there is an absolutely cute guy protecting you for some strange reason," Dunite declared, walking towards the staircase. Helen limped along with her, looking slightly amused as her friend continued on. "Then, to make matters even better, said absolutely cute guy had a hissy fit when you fainted, and he would not allow any of those creepy looking things near you at all."

"What creepy looking things?" asked Helen, holding the banister as Dunite shifted around to make the downward trek more bearable. She touched her head, and then shook it. "I don't remember anything about them."

"You did faint," Dunite reminded her brown haired friend. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of the events are still fuzzy." Quickly, Helen glared at Dunite, which only made her laugh. "Don't worry; I think you are perfectly capable of recalling the events. Especially since we're here now!"

The two women walked through the door and into the room, but in actuality, Dunite dragged Helen into the room since she suddenly became scared, and did not want to face the old hard truth. But then again, she did not completely think that; it was just an ominous feeling.

As the door clicked behind them, four pairs of eyes looked at Helen and Dunite. Two came from Mikhail and Marguerite, since, as Helen noted, they were currently in their home. The third pair of eyes came from the blond man himself. Lastly, the fourth was a man she could not recognize, but she felt like she should know him from somewhere.

Dunite pulled her towards a couch, and made her sit down. Once she was sure that Helen would not run away, she sat down herself, and together they waited patiently until one of the others spoke.

After sitting in awkward silence for a few seconds, the stranger that Helen had not met, said politely, "Hello Miss Pier." He looked towards Dunite, and tipped his bowler hat gallantly. Dunite smiled, accepting his movement and greeting. He then turned to Helen. "It's been a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Granger."

"I'm afraid that's not my name," she rebuked instantly. She regretted the words once she said them, but the man appeared unphased by her reaction. Instead he merely laughed.

"I don't think she remembers you, Blaise," observed Malfoy. "But don't despair, she doesn't know me either."

"Really?" laughed the man called Blaise. "I thought for sure she would remember me, if not you! Oh, what a humorous day this has turned out to be! The Mudblood best friend of Scarhead and Weasel has lost her memory!"

Helen blanched at the man's speech, and her friends instantly noticed the change in her demeanor. Malfoy and his friend Blaise had known her past self. In fact, they knew more about her past than she knew herself. She did not know if she should be upset or start laughing in the obscurity of it all. Here was her chance to ask, and she was too afraid to do so.

Before she could reply, Marguerite stood up, gaining the attention of the laughing man and his companion. In a low voice, the woman demanded, "It would be best if you leave now, Mr. Zabini." She looked menacingly at the man, who instantly stopped his cackling. "As for you, Mr. Malfoy, I request that you never come to this house again. We have been living peacefully in this village for at least three years now, and we do not you disrupting our peace, or our newly found prosperity. Thank you for your visit, but you have stayed too long."

She pointed towards the door, and Blaise and Malfoy both stood up, and walked towards the exit of the room. As Blaise passed Helen, he made a point to glare at her, which she ignored with all her will. Dunite watched the encounter curiously; however, she was more curious when the blond man passed her friend and requested, "Could I speak to you later."

Helen made no movement to accept or decline his request, but it seemed as if Malfoy has psychic abilities, for he whispered in a blur of words, "Near the large rock on the West side."

Yet again, the bushy haired woman did not make a movement, and with that, Malfoy left, leaving the group of friends alone in the room.

Heaving a large sigh, Marguerite stated, "I'm glad that they're gone. Especially with that ridiculous request!"

"What request?" inquired Helen. "I don't remember either one of them requesting anything ridiculous. In fact, nothing much was said."

Mikhail and Marugerite turned white, and they both tried to cover the encounter with different remarks. As Marguerite said, "He only wants to build a windmill in the middle of the village," her husband said, "He wants to reintroduce virgin sacrifices to the area."

When the finished, they both glared at each other, and Dunite asked nervously, "So I guess that's not what he really wanted, right?"

Shaking his head, Mikhail stated sadly, "No, that's not what they really want."

Marguerite nodded her head grimly, "They actually want something that is so ridiculous and-" Suddenly the woman burst out into hiccupping laughter. "The absurdity of it! Who on Earth comes to the middle of nowhere and says that they want one of the most important members of our society?"

Looking puzzled, Dunite asked, "Who were they asking for?" Neither Mikhail nor Marguerite replied to her question. Instead they looked about the room, but eventually both of their gazes ended on Helen.

Oblivious to their wandering gazes, Helen came to her our conclusion. Quietly, she whispered words that were almost inaudible. "They want me, don't they?"

When no one replied, Helen nodded her head, as if agreeing with herself. "That makes sense, since they seem to know me." She smiled sadly, fingering her locket in a loving manner. "Or at least the old me."

--------------------

"What'd you do that for?" snarled Blaise as soon as he and his friend, Draco Malfoy, entered the Death Eater camp on the Northwest side of camp. "We were this close-" He showed a short distance between two of his fingers, "But you decided to play hero for some stupid reason, and look at us now! Wasting more time, yet again!"

Malfoy sat down on a rock, and held his head in his hand. "I couldn't tell her out of the blue about everything that she has forgotten. If we told her, who knows what the consequences could have been!"

"Terrible? Dreadful? Evil?" asked Blaise, sitting down, calmer than he had been a few minutes earlier. "No matter what happens, you have to bring her back, or else the Dark Lord will have a hissy fit, and who knows where we'll end up next. Instead of England, we could be living in the Gobi Desert!"

"People actually know where the Gobi Desert is," remarked Malfoy. "So it wouldn't be that out of reach to comprehend."

"But the Chinese are Communists!" whined the black man. "Nobody likes the Communists!"

"Is this your own opinion, or one that you gained from reading too many Muggle history books?" asked Malfoy. "Because most wizards and witches don't even understand the concept."

"Well, then you'll have to add me to the list," said Blaise crossing his arms. "Because I just heard an old Muggle lady waitress at one of those Order places talking about the dreaded Cold War, whatever that is."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "So you're basically repeating what some old lady was saying? Am I correct?"

Nodding his head, Blaise grinned, "Yup! You would be very correct!"

Malfoy shook his head, "You do realize that you are entitled to your own opinions and do not need to steal ideas from others? That would be called plagiarism, and plagiarism is bad. It is also illegal, or at least I believe so. I could be wrong." After tilting his head, and looking thoughtful for a few minutes, Malfoy finally came to a conclusion, "Yes, plagiarism is most definitely illegal."

"In every state except for Texas!" quipped Blaise, earning a strange look from Malfoy.

" Texas?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What does Texas have to do with plagiarism being illegal? Or, is this another idea that came from your friend the old Muggle lady waitress at one of those Order places?"

Shaking his head, Blaise grinned, "Nope! The Texas hatred came from some Mexican at a pub near the Rio Grande!"

Malfoy mumbled beneath his breath, "Well then, I guess that explains everything." He hoped that statement would end the strange conversation with his friend; however, to his dismay it had the opposite effect. Typically, the two friends had a strange conversation every day, but the comments made by Blaise today were the strangest.

Blaise began to act furious, "That Mexican said that all Texans are liars and cheater and should go and-"

Quickly Malfoy interjected, "Not anger the Mexicans?" Blaise came out of the role by rolling his eyes in dismay, but Malfoy ignored the action. "Now that you're done bashing Mexicans, Texans, and Communists, I suggest that we speak of the problem at hand."

"Your problem you mean?" Blaise asked sweetly. "After all she is your lady-love, and you were the one who wanted to respect her feelings. If it was me, I would have just kidnapped her in a minute, and stole her away to the Dark Lord by the time you could say Lucius Malfoy."

Malfoy winced at the name, and demanded, "Could you refrain from using his name? I don't want to hear about him anymore than I have to."

"Does daddy-dearest's name scare little Drakie?" cooed Blaise. "How dreadful that one of the Dark Lord's most trusted men can't even stand the name of his own father? Oh, we should all be scared of Draco Malfoy now!"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy said, "I'm not scared of my father, I just don't want to mention him. Isn't it better to let sleeping dogs lie?"

"Lie as in telling an untruth, or lie as in stay still?" Blaise asked earnestly, but they both knew that he understood what Malfoy had meant by the statement.

Playing along with the game, Malfoy stated, "Take your pick. Does it really matter? Besides who really wants to know the truth of my father's exploits for the past twenty- if not longer- years?"

"Not me, that's for certain," replied Blaize, shuddering at the thought of knowing Lucius Malfoy's past actions. "It would creep out any little old lady."

"Back to that subject already?" smirked Malfoy. "Is it just me, or do you have a strange fascination with that species?"

"How insulting of you?" declared Blaise. "You've just insulted little old ladies, and your best friend. How you wound me!" He clutched his chest in a dramatic fashion, making Malfoy laugh slightly, but his face quickly went back into a grimace.

Looking off into the distance, Malfoy radically changed the subject. "I really miss her, Blaise. I miss her laugh, her smile, her voice, and well, everything that makes her Hermione Granger. I remember that last message she gave me on that contraption called the answering machine. She said that she would be back by noon, but she never returned."

He closed his eyes and leaned back, almost falling off the log. Luckily, he managed to catch himself before he did fall, and throughout the movements Blaise did not say a word, and kept his undivided attention on his friend. He sighed, "The Order searched for days on end, but the end was coming closer. They stopped searching, saying that they'll start again once the Final Battle occurred."

"But the Final Battle didn't go our way, did it?" asked Blaise quietly.

"You know as well as I do that the side we truly support lost, Blaise," replied Malfoy. "That's why she remained missing for three years, and then suddenly Potter sent an owl saying that he has important news for me that was not as Order related as the usual missions."

"I take it that this was Potter's mission?" asked Blaise. "When you first came to me with it, I thought the Dark Lord was the one who told you to go."

"In a way he was," said Malfoy. "But it was originally Potter's idea. The way he looked at me, I could tell that he wanted to go, but at the moment he has other responsibilities, and he probably thought that I would be the best choice because I-"

Malfoy stopped, trying to grasp a hold back onto his emotions, which did not work well, so Blaise eloquently, said, "Because you have strong feelings for her in the romantic sense?"

Shrugging, Malfoy replied, "I suppose you could call it that." He looked away from his friend, and up towards the sky. One raindrop came out of nowhere, but he hardly noticed it, after all he really did not care any longer. He already knew that the river ran to a place somewhere far away. Far away from Hermione Granger, the love of his life. "But, I really don't care anymore."

"You and I both know that is a lie," stated Blaise, crossing his arms. "You've cared about her since the day that she disappeared all the way to this day. Because I'm your best friend, I know perfectly well that you lover her more than ever before."

Malfoy bit his lip, and muttered sardonically, "I suppose that's the correct assertion." He stood up and brushed the debris that had accumulated upon his immaculate uniform from the tree trunk he had been sitting on. Facing the direction of the village, he sighed, "Suppose I should head off towards the rock."

"To meet your lady love?" grinned Blaise, causing his blond friend to give him the evil eye. When he merely walked away instead of replying to the remark, Blaise cried out in a mocking manner, "Well I hope it goes well, Drakie, for you won't want to come back and disappoint the great and might Dark Lord!"

"Don't worry, I won't," he replied. "But I don't care about him. This is for me and my pride."

"Aren't you full of yourself," mumbled Blaise, as Malfoy disappeared into the dark and dank woods. "But I commend you for coming and not shrinking back. It takes quite a man to do so."

A few other Death Eaters walked past indolently, leering at him in a dark matter. Snapping back into the reality of the situation, he demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The burly Death Eater shrugged, while the other smirked, which caused Blaise to snap, "Bet back to work, you fool! We're not prepared yet for the launch of the attack! You wouldn't want all the blame to end up on you, do you? If that's the case I could make sure it happens!"

Taken aback the two men, walked away, muttering curses underneath their breath. Blaise smirked, and follwed their retreating figures so that he could boss around the other lazy men, and make sure that the current population of Dementors were not causing any unncessary mischeif.f

However, he hoped deep in his heart that Malfoy's mission would not falter. After all, he was the best friend, and as best friend, he would have to take equal blame, by his own choice. For what are best friend good for, if not helping their friend?

----------

To his disappointment, when Malfoy reached the rock, his companion was not there yet. So, he merely sat on the rock, and waited until she showed up. He was absolutely positive that her curiosity would consume her, and she would have no choice but to come. Eventually.

He was worried though that her friends knew of the inevitable plan, and would demand that she remained behind in the village. One of them might come, like the blonde that he hardly caught the name of. He believed it was Dunite, but he could be wrong. His eyes had been on her throughout the short meetings.

It made his seem like a true fool. He hadn't been aware of his surroundings, and his men and his overseer considered him to be one of the best in his field. Lately is sure did not seem as if he was proving their theories.

His entire attention had been focused on a woman who most of the wizarding world did not believe was alive anymore. He sure did not have his priorities straight in the eyes of everyone else. But when did he ever care about whaat other's thoguht?

Allowing the war, salty sea air to ruffle his hair, he took a deep breath, and allowed all of his bent up frustration and anger to go, and travel away. After all, it was a peaceful area, and whoever allowed this community of witches and wizards to come to the idealic island of Crete was incredibly intelligent.

It was an idealic place to start anew. The whole area was pleasant with gorgeous, sunny days, and calm seas for traveling across. There was quite a bit of natural wildlife, and the woods were thick and dark enough for a proper amount of shade. It was scenic, and incredibly romantic.

But Malfoy was not man enough to admit out loud of the romantic and magical proportions of the area. After all, it could possibly shatter his pride, and he had been doing enough of that since the beginning of the day.

"Nice view, isn't it?" asked a voice behind him. He recognized it instantly as Hermione, and slowly he turned around to face the woman. She was walking towards him, and sat down on the rock next to him. Facing towards the gentle waves, she held her knees towards her chest, and casually entwined her fingers. "I"ve always liked this place. It's so tranquil and peaceful. The perfect thinking spot. Do you know what I mean?"

He nodded his head mutely, and allowed her to converse by herself. "I always find myself sitting nearby the ocean, for that's what I think it is." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not absolutely positive though, but it makes sense. But that's besides the point. The whole reason I come here is to think about my past. I really don't know about my past. I just know small things." She fingered her locket, which immediately captured Malfoy attention. It looked a lot alike the Horcrux that the Dark Lord often mentioned during important meetings to important members. "This locket is really my only clue."

"May I see it?" Malfoy asked. "I promise I'll give it back to you immediately. " She bit her lip, looking slightly worried, but when he gently extended his hand, she complied to his request.

Gingerly, he opened the locket, and saw the two picture. He immediately recognized her friends, and he was almost certain the couple were her parents. He wasn't absolutely sure though, since he had never met them. Last time he talked to Potter, he had said that her parents were alive, and living somewhere in the United States with a bunch of Muggle's that knew about the magical world.

"Who are these people?" he asked, pretending not to know. He wanted to hear what she said before he announced anything essential to convincing her to come with him. After all, if she already knew the truth, why would she want to leave peace and prosperity for danger and fighting?

She shrugged, tears brimming from the corners of her eyes, "I don't know. But I want to know, and I'm wondering, do you know who they are?"

"I have an idea," he replied, not answering her question completely. He pointed towards the two men, "I believe that these two are your best friends. Like you, they've been through many hardships."

"What kind of hardships?" she whispered, looking at him intently. "I need to know."

He shook his head, "You don't need to know; you just want to know, Mudblood." He had not wanted to call her the name, but he wanted to see if she would react in a negative or positvie way. Luckily, he did not have to wait for the reaction.

Imediately, she jumped off the rock, and glared at the blond haired man. "Mr. Malfoy, we were having a perfectly civilized conversation, and then you had to call me that horrid name! What is wrong with you?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest casually. "What's wrong with stating the obvious, Mudblood?"

"It's an overused term, Mr. Malfoy," she retorted. "It shows that you are prejudiced and quite uneducated since you cannot think of your own insults, and have to use those that have been created by other men and women long before yourself."

"Well, the word Mudblood has been around for quite a while, hasn't it? Why should I break the wonderful tradition of the usage?" he asked. "After all, it implies the inferiority of your status, and the superiority of mine."

"It just proves that you are egotistic and a jerk," she replied. "It doesn't reveal anything about you being better than me in normal people's eyes. It just makes you look better in the eyes of the Purebloods."

Jumping off the rock casually, he strolled over to the annoyed woman. "Just out of idle curiosity, what does Mudblood mean? Also, what did you mean by Purebloods?"

Her face blanched, and she looked strickened by terror. Biting her lip, she shrugged helplessly, and whispered, "I don't know." Then after a second of silence, she added as an afterthought. "But I have a feeling that I should know."

"That's what I thought," he replied accusingly. "You don't know why you are upset."

"Well, if you would just tell me already, then I would have a good reason to be upset," she argued. "After all, I know perfectly well that you insulted me by calling me a Mudblood. There's no way that such a noun could mean anything positive. When I think of mud, I think of dirt, and dirty implies dirty, which is that: dirty. So, Mudblood obviously means something along the lines of dirty blood." She shrugged hopelessly, "Except that I don't know how it could be used though. I certainly don't use it in everyday conversations. Do you?"

It was Malfoy's turn to pale slightly, which caused Helen to raise a questioning eyebrow. Instantly, he regained his composure, and said, "No, I don't use it in everyday conversation neither."

"You do realize that you just used a double negative, right?" Helen asked. "I do believe that is not allowed in proper English."

He shrugged, "In all honesty, I don't care."

"Then you obviously don't keep good company," she retorted. "After all, you are friends with that Goyle guy, with a core of a next brain."

"I am not friends with Goyle," said Malfoy. "We are merely acquantices. The only thing he is good at doing his beating up other people that need to be beaten. If I didn't need manpower, he would never live to see another day."

"Isn't that kind of cruel?" she asked. "Just because he is kind of dim doesn't mean that he deserves to die."

"Believe me," muttered Malfoy. "This dimwitted person actually deserves Death's row."

Helen shook her head in disbelief, but was quite startled when Malfoy demanded, "You are coming with me."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Why on Earth would I go anywhere with you! I don't even know who you are, and how am I suppose to know that you aren't going to kill me, or take advantage of me, or anything along those lines?"

"You'll just have to trust me," he replied. "Besides, I resepct you to much to do that."

"No," she stated firmly. "I'm not going with you, even if you respect me. It's risky." Silently she added that she had been warned by Marguerite and Mikhail that he and his freaky friend wanted her for some unknown reason. Something to do with her past, she almost guaranteed it to be the reason.

"You're coming, even if you're kicking and screaming," he replied.

"I won't go."

"You're coming with me."

"No!" She spun around, after grabbing the locket that had been left on the rock, and began walking towards the exit. Before she could get very far, he had taken out his wand, and muttered a spell that quickly knocked her out cold.

He muttered a quick apology, than shot sparks out of his wand, informing the other Death Eaters that he had captured the prize, and they were to head back to the mainland immediately.

As he levitated her off of the ground, men and Dementors suddenly appeared in the premises, with Blaise arriving last. "Have the girl?"

After Malfoy nodded his head, Blaise shotted the command, "Get going, now!" With a quick pop, they Apparrated to the cavern the Dark Lord was currently at. They had finished the impossible mission successfully.

* * *

Thank you for reading the third chapter. I am absolutely sorry if there are any glaring grammar/spelling mistakes. I was not able to use the school's spellcheck and grammar program this week to correct it. I will make sure to eventually correct it, for it'll bother me for a while. So, I apologize one more time. Despite this fact, I hope you are enjoying the story so far.

As alway, neither the song nor the series belong to me. You would be insane to think so.

Thanks for reading, and don't forget to give a small review!

**Verbeia**

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER FOUR: I WANNA DIE**

* * *

_**Tear it up, break it down,  
**__**Put my heart on your sleeve  
**__**And wear it all over town.  
**__**I know you're a player  
**__**But you don't play be the rules  
**__**And I'm just another fool  
**__**In a long line of fools. **_

_**Yeah, it's so complicated.  
**__**I love then I hate it.  
**__**I'm laughin', you're cryin',  
**__**You'r livin', I'm dyin'.  
**__**Somebody always loses  
**__**And we still play the game.  
**__**Yeah, the fire will  
**__**Always burn you and  
**__**We still light the flame.  
**__**Let's make it up baby,  
**__**'Cause I ain't going to fight  
**__**If you're the death of me darlin'.  
**__**I wanna die.**_

* * *

"Where is he?" asked Molly Weasley, worried. "I remember you clearly saying, Harry, that he would arrive no later than the twentieth of May, and I hate to tell you, but today just happens to be the twentieth of May. She pressed the palms of her hands to her forehead, and gave a short sob, causing the other Order members to glare at Harry.

Currently, a good number of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were at the former Black house. All of the Weasley's were there, including Arthur, Molly's husband, Bill, with his wife Fleur and their two year old son Henry, Charlie with his latest girlfriend, Percy who now supported his family, the twins with their respective girlfriends, the youngest son, Ronald, and finally the only girl, Ginny. Thus, the Weasley family had been incredibly lucky during the first war, except that the eldest son had some wolfish traits.

However, all of the women agreed it only made his face even more hadsome in a rugged sort of way. That statement had caused all the men to scoff, and probably was one of the most lighthearted meetings the Order had ever had.

Despite the Weasley's taking up a vast majority of the room, other members included the one and only Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin with his wife Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody, and a few others of no great importance.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Harry asked the others in the room, "Do you seriously trust him? If you don't remember, he merely said that he would try to bring her back by today."

Some members nodded their head, understanding the meaning behind his words. As if knowing what they were thinking, Harry continued, "Besides, who knows if she's actually alive, and if he actuaually found her. Our one little clue was just an idea, and we'll either be lucky, or disappointed, again."

Molly's wail increased in volume, causing Lupin to wince. "Molly, could you please try not to shrill so loudly? We know you are terribly upset, but you are making too much of a racket for anyone think properly."

Mumbling a few incoherent words that sounded like degatory comments towards the werewolf, Molly grabbed a very used rag from the table, and left the room in a huff, but not after quickly wipping already immaculate surfaces.

Arthur sighed in the general direction of his wife's exit. "I better go follow her befores she has another mental breakdown. This war has done tolls on her health: both mental and physical." He scratched his head in irritated manner, "I just wish it would end already, and then we could go back to living in peace. That's what this world needs, I tell you!"

"True dad," said George, "But it doesn't occur overnight, you know."

"But it should have not lasted over five years!" he stated irately. "It should have been kill the guy, then celebrate. None of this complexities and millions of deaths of both wizards and Muggles."

"Millions?" repeated Ginny suddenly. "Are you actually saying this war has caused millions of deaths?" She shivered slightly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop at least thirty degrees. The younger witches and wizards raised an eyebrow towards the older man, while the older generation, those who had fought in the first war, merely nodded their heads cynically.

"We're in a war, Ginerva," alleged Arthur darkly. "What do you think happens?" He quickly left the room, leaving only silence behind.

Ginny was about to speak, when Moody interrupted, "Death occurs, but not to this multitude. You have the Dark Lord to thank, Miss Weasley. This is not just a normal, spin of the mill war. It's one that involves an ancient prejudice and hatred towards the Muggles, and those who are not of the pure. We are not fighting to save ourselves, witches and wizards, from the cruelty of the Dark Lord, but we are fighting to save the world, and the existence of everyone."

"Exactly," added Shacklebolt. "If you wanted to understand why the numbers are so high, just think of who the Dark Lord hates."

"Muggles," whispered Harry, grabbing Ginny's hand, taking comfort in the warmth. "He hates Muggles."

"Why?" grumbled Moody. "The reason is as important as the hatred. Why would he specifically want to kill Muggles?"

"Because his father was a Muggle," replied Harry, causing many of the Order members to gasp since they had not known the true heritage. Like everyone else, they believed the Dark Lord was a Pureblood, because why else would he want to kill everyone else that was not?

"Good Potter," nodded Moody. "I take it Dumbledore had specifically informed you of this information before his death?" When Harry nodded, he continued, "Since the Dark Lord despises Muggles with such intensity, he decided to create Death Camps, and by the day, over a hundred are tortured, and eventually killed."

The younger generation gasped, and a few had to be ushered out of the room because of the uncouthness of the conversation. Eventually, only Lupin, Tonks, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Shacklebolt, and Moody remained in the room.

"I can't believe we have such softies as fighters," grumbled Moody, crossing his arms irately. "I would think that they could have waited at least until they heard about the dogs and nuclear acid."

"Moody," warned Shacklebolt. "This is neither the time or place to discuss He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named torture ideas. We are here to give the basic outline of what's going out there."

"Yes," agreed Tonks, nodding her head. "They should know the bare necessities becuase it was horrid! The worst part is that we couldn't save them, even if we tried for days on end."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry asked, "Why couldn't you save the Muggles?"

"Because the Dark Lord decided it would be humorous, in his twisted and sadistic way of course, to have other Muggles, usually children under the unspeakable curses, to torture the older generation," stated Moody grimly.

Gasping, Ginny asked, "Are you sure?"

"Never been so sure in my entire life," replied Moody. "I saw it all with my own eyes, and Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Tonks all saw it too. But Miss Weasley, I sure do wish that it was all my imagination. Bloody horrid one at that, too."

Harry rubbed Ginny's back in a comforting manner as she tried to grasp the information. Tonks and Lupin looked sympathtic at the younger girl; meanwhile, Ron, who had been surprisingly quiet, glared at the furthest wall.

As Ginny gave quiet shudders, Harry asked, "This is like the Holocaust, isn't it?"

The others looked at him blankly, but Lupin shook his head, "In a sense it is, Harry, for those who haven't seen it. The truth is, it is much worse, and deadly too. The Muggles are fighting against an enemy that they can neither see or understand."

Harry looked at Lupin blankly, and Shacklebolt informed the others who looked just as blank, except for Moody, "Magic! None have ever seen or believed in it before."

"But the ones that could believe in it, are being controlled," added Tonks. "Sometimes they can convince the older generation of its existence, except they are all under his command, and he would never allow them to tell the truth."

"What is he planning to do with the children, then?" asked Ron, suddenly. His bright red hair was sticking out at all sorts of angles, and dark circles were around his eyes. He looked exhausted both mentally and physically, and worse to wear than anyone else in the room.

The older Order members looked at each other, and the air in the room grew tense. Lupin bit his lip, Shacklebolt put his hands in his lap, and Moody was unusually quiet.

"You don't know do you?"

Bringing up his head, to look directly in Ron's eyes, Lupin stated, "We aren't sure, Ron, but we have different ideas."

"And none of them are good ones, I presume?" asked Ginny, inching away from Harry, so that she would be able to hear the coming anser better.

Moody shook his head, "The best one that we have so far is that the Dark Lord will kill them."

Rubbing her head, Tonks added, "The other ideas include, but are not limitted to having the children as a sort of Secret Police for himself, become terrorists by the use of suicidal magic, or pretend to escape, come here, and because we think that they are innoncent, we'll let them join, and in the end, it will only end badly."

"That's one grim future for kids," stated Ron, crossing his arms. He looked around the room, and saw the weary looks on the others. "That's why we have to stop it! Before it escalates any further!"

The door suddenly flung open before Ron could continue his inspiring speach, and irritated man with blond hair stepped into the room, ripping of his badge that marked his elitist position in the Dark Lord's army.

"I don't suggest you continue that speech Weasley, because you might harm yourself beyond repair, but that wouldn't be very surprising," he sneered, sitting into one of the more comfortable chairs, and propping his feet on the table.

Glaring at the blond haired man, Ron stated hotly, "Who do you think you are? You came in here without an invitation, and now you're acting all high and mighty."

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said. "Now, do you want to hear the information, or do you want to argue all day and night over petty incidents?"

Before Ron could argue with Malfoy, Harry interrupted, "We want to here all of the information that you have, Malfoy."

"Fine, but I'm not going to talk in front of those goons," Draco stated, pointing towards Moody, Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Tonks. "This informations going to remain confidential between us."

Looking pointedly at the indicated Order members, Harry requested, "Could you please leave, since it is his wish in order to speak." He gave them a pointed look, clearly saying that if it was good news, he would eventually inform them, and the same thing would occur if it was bad news.

They agreed without much of a fight, even though Moody glared blatantly at the blond man, which only caused Malfoy to glare just as obviously. Neither man had forgotten the ferret incidence, and many Order members still entertained themselves by telling that story whenever they were both in residence. However, since the disappearnce of Hermione, the one who usually crushed the old sentiments, no one even bothered anymore. Half the fun was trying to avoid the vexed and dangerous women with her wand at the ready to curse the victim who was mocking her boyfriend.

Once the room was completely silence, Ginny asked quietly, "What's the news, Draco?"

Unlike the boys, she had known about Hermione and Malfoy's relationship from the beginning; therefore, she was more comfortable around his presence than the others. So comfortable in fact, that she called him by his first name rather than by his last name like the boys.

He looked directly at Ginny, and whispered, "I found her."

"You what!" exclaimed Ron, standing up, and looking meaningcly towards the blond man. "Why didn't you tell us earlier rather than making us wait until the last minute!"

Malfoy crossed his arms, "You do realize that penetrating Crete was like finding a needle in a haystack. As for locating Hermione, it took the giant goon of Goyle to find her. Do you realize how insulted I feel currently?"

"Very," consoled Ginny. "But you must be pleased anyhow because she's now back! So how is she? Not sickly looking, right? It would be dreadful if she was sick, especially because she's now back with the ones that love her! But that is besides the point! Where did you find her? Was there anybody with her? What had she been doing for three years?"

Raising a hand to quiet the rambling girl, Malofy answered, "As you suggested, Ginny, I am indeed pleased to have found her. But there's a slight problem."

"Problem?" asked Ron and Harry simultaneously.

When Draco nodded his head, Harry asked, "What sort of problem, Malfoy? Nothing too serious, right?" He suddenly felt nervous, and when Malfoy only remained quiet, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked softly. "Could you please tell us what's wrong with Hermione? We are all her friends, and I think we deserve to know what has happened to her in the past three years. Or at least know as much as you currently know."

Sighing, Malfoy said, "Hermione currently does not remember anything about her past. When we first met, she did not recognize me at all, and she still does not know who I am."

"Oh," said Ginny looking at her feet. She grabbed Harry's hand, and held it to comfort the both of them. "That's not quite what I was expecting."

Harry agreed, "I know that she's been missing for three years, and that it would be inevitable that she would forget something about her past, but to forget everything? That's just even more disappointing."

Remaining quiet, Ron merely nodded his head in agreement, and Malfoy smiled slightly, "I was just as surprised as you are. In fact, I said her name outright, causing her to faint. Little did I know that she was Helen."

"Helen? Was that her name, Draco?" asked Ginny. The blond man nodded his head, and Ginny requested, "Do you know what she used as her last name, then?"

He shrugged, "I never received a reply about that. But she had a friend, Dunite Pier, and Mikhail, with his wife Marguerite. I don't recall their family name though. But I don't think it is important. They are all part of her past now."

"What do you mean by that?" Ron suddenly asked. "Where is Hermione now if she's not in Crete still nor here?"

Raising an eyebrow, Harry asked, "How do you know that Hermione's not here, Ron?"

"Because if she was, she would be in this room with us right now, probably freaking out like usual because we know her, but she doesn't know us," Ron replied irritatedly. "Or, Mum would be running into this room, crying because she's back. Since neither of these circumstances have occurred, obviously she's not here."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Harry looked shocked at Ron's insightfulness. Malfoy merely looked bored, thus, Ginny asked, "Is that true Draco? Is she really not here?"

Nodding his head, Malfoy alleged, "She's not here."

"Why not?" asked Harry furiously. "You said you would bring her back, but you lied to all of us, Malfoy! I thought the orders that I gave you were obvious: bring her back!"

"I would have loved to have done so, Potter," snarled Malfoy. "However, to make the Dark Lord still believe that my loyalties lie with him, it was neccessary to bring Hermione to him. He had been looking for her just as long as you had since she has some vital information that even I do not know or understand."

Harry frowned, "Then where is she?"

"Where do you think, Potter?" asked Malfoy. "She's obviously in some dark, dank dungeon, slowly being tortured by the Dark Lord so that she would eventually tell him the location of the last Horcrux, and then he would find it, and make sure that you, and his enemies, would never be able to discover, and then destroy it, and thus, he would become truly immortal."

"What!" exclaimed Ron and Harry simultaneously. "We didn't destroy all of them?"

Rubbing his head in annoyance and feeling an oncoming headache, Malfoy asked, "Wasn't it obvious from the very beginning that you didn't destroy all of them? If you had, we wouldn't be in this mess currently."

"True," agreed Ginny, replying to Malfoy's accusation, because the two boys were currently incapable of coherent speech. "But do you at least know what it is? That could be helpful. Possibly?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Of course I know what it is. After all, she wore it around her neck three years ago, and still wears it to this day."

Gasping, Harry asked, "It's the locket we all gave her, right before she disapperared?"

"Right on the first try, Potter," replied Malfoy. "The locket needs to be destroyed before the Dark Lord realizes that it is it. Do you know how disastrous the situation could become if we aren't able to get rid of it before he hides it?"

"Very," said Ginny. "That's why we'll have to rescue her."

"That's a fool's errand!" exclaimed Ron, shaking his head. "We would be killed if we just walked up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and say, 'Hey, we have a favour to ask of you. Is it possible to give Hermione back to us. She has something that is vital for your destruction.' We would be Avada'd on the spot."

Ginny's facial expression changed to one of disappointment, and Harry looked disheartened, too, but Malfoy merely smirked, "That's not a bad plan, Weasel."

Furrowing his brows, Ron asked incredulously, "Are you agreeing with me, Malfoy?"

"No, I'm agreeing with the weasel that is sitting next to you," Mafloy said sarcastically, causing Ron's expression to become confused. Sighing irritatedly, Malfoy exclaimed, "Of course I'm agreeing with you, you numbskull!"

"Oh," he replied dubioulsy. "Then are you agreeing to all of our deaths?"

"Ron just be quiet for a few minutes," said Ginny exasperated. "The sooner we have a plan, the sooner we can rescue Hermione, and currently, you are just slowing us down."

"Harry, mate, are you going to side with them, too?"

"Sorry Ron, but we need to get everything figured out relatively soon, or else it's not going to end well," said Harry. "So, could you stay quiet unless you have something productive to add?"

"Fine," he grumbled, causing Malfoy to smirk. Both Ginny and Harry glared at the blond haired man, but he ignored the looks. Instead, he clapped his hands together and called for order, even though the others already had their attention focused upon him.

In an authorative voice, Malfoy began, "As I informed you earlier, Hermione's in a dungeon, probably being guarded by Crabbe and Goyle. All of the other Death Eaters, though, are probably celebrating her capture, including the Dark Lord. Since they are partying, most of them will probably become drunk by the end of the evening, and knowing Crabbe and Goyle, if there is any food, they'll be there, instead of doing there job."

"So?" asked Harry. "What does this have to do with rescuing Hermione? So Death Eaters, like anyone else, can get drunk. That doesn't matter-" Malfoy glared at the dark haired boy, which caused him to add, "Does it?"

"Of course it matters," sighed Malfoy. "They will be so busy nursing awful headaches, that they wouldn't notice a few uninvited, and unliked guests, called Weasl's and Potter."

"What about yourself?" asked Ron suddenly, forgetting that he was suppose to be quiet. "Wouldn't you be suspicious, too?"

Glaring at the redheaded boy, Malfoy asked, "Are you always this thick, or do you save it until I'm specifically around?"

Ron blushed a deep red, and Malfoy shook his head, while Harry looked sympathetically at his friend, "You were asking for it that time, Ron."

"Are we done with stupidity yet?" requested Malfoy. "Because we do not have forever to work this out, and all of your presences are starting to irritate me."

"Draco," warned Ginny, "Be nice to the others. They are just as worried about Hermione as you are."

"Then why didn't they go to Crete in order to find her?" argued Malfoy. "Instead they made me do it, and they still consider themselves her friends. If I were Hermione, I would be ashamed to call those two my good friends."

"Draco."

"Fine, fine, I'll stop being rude or mean, or cruel, or whatever you're calling me," Malfoy said. "But on one condition: they have to stop asking stupid questions."

"Harry, Ron, Draco wants you to stop askign stupid questions."

"I thought there was no such thing as a stupid question," stated Ron, causing Ginny to glare at him. "Fine, we'll play by his rules! That idiot really does need someone to bring him down a few notches, though."

Malfoy glared at the redhead, but decided to continue with his plan, "In two days-"

"Why two days?" asked Harry confused. "Why not tongiht?"

"Because," Malfoy answered, rolling his eyes, "The Dark Lord will want to play with his new toy before celebrating with the others. Unlike you, I happen to fear his temper, which means he has the strangest mood swings known to the world. Therefore, we will wait until he is drunkenly asleep, and that won't happen until the twenty-second of May."

"The Dark Lord has dreadful mood swings?" Ginny giggled. "That's so funny."

Draco scowled, "That's besides the point, Weaslette."

"Sorry, Draco," she smiled. "Continue whenever you please." She waved a hand indicating for the continuation of his plan, and he did so after waiting a few minutes for her incessant to giggles to stop.

"Therefore, we'll go in the front door, because no one would expect it," he stated. "Besides, they wouldn't notice. Then we would go to the dungeons, probably his personal one first because she's 'special.' If she's not there, we'll split up, and look through the rest of the area. Hopefully, we'll find her, and we'll carry her to the nearest Apparition point, and bring her here, to the Order's headquarters. Now, do you all understand?"

The other nodded their heads, and for the continuation of the meeting, they all agreed to stay low for the next few days. Harry wanted to tell the Order about the success of discovering Hermione, but Malfoy pointed out that they would only be raising hopes, specifically Molly Weasley's, and in the end they might be disappointed.

Therefore, as Malfoy walked out of the room, ignoring the stares of the others, he felt his heart tearing into pieces. He was leaving her in the lion's den, no the serpent's den, for longer than he preffered, and he knew perfectly well that it would not be a pleasant situation for her.

Sometimes he wondered why he still loved her, and right now happened to be heaped with those thoughts as he exited the edifice, taking care to avoid the psychotic portrait of Sirius Black's dead mother. He had more than enough incidents with her to last an entire lifetime, or perhaps two.

He walked through the exit, and quickly looked at his surroundings. Luckily he was alone, no one present to witness his disappearing body as he apparated back to his home: Malfoy Manour.

Walking quickly through the building, he avoided all the important places in his and Hermione's relationship unconciously. In fact, he only looked at his surrounding once he entered his fahter's old study. During their relationship, he had specifically made sure that she never entered this room, because his father could tell whenever an unwanted presence had entered and looked around at his own safe haven.

Thus, for the past three years, Mafloy only lived in his father's old study, and had his house-elf, Gorby, bring him the daily neccessities, such as food and washed clothing. The small house-elf obeyed his every command, that sometimes he wished the creature would tell him that he was acting like an idiot, and that he should stop mourning already for what has been lost.

Gorby never did so, though.

He shook his head at the thought of the house-elf, and pulld off his shoes. Not bothering to take off the rest of his clothes, Malfoy sat down on the bed, soaking in the drab colors that matched his mood so perfectly.

"I really am a fool," he muttered to himself, and then he grabbed the nearest book he could find. It was titled _Twenty-one Ways to Obliterate Memories_, which caused Malfoy to scoff, "Perfect light reading this is!"

Sighing, he threw the book away from him, and then closed his eyes, hardly aware of drifting into the realms of dreamland, even though every second was filled with Hermione's screams, but in his sleepy mind, the noise merely informed him that she was alive, and not dead.

------------------

In a dark dungeon, somewhere far away from the bustling and noise of cities and towns, a pair of bright red eyes scrutinized the sleeping form of a bushy haired woman. Since her arrival earlier that day, she had not opened her eyes, or made a single sound. The only action she made during her slumber was to grab the locket that hung around her neck. The action did not cause the man great alarm, but it made him slightly curious. It looked a lot like one of his possessions, but it couldn't be, could it?

"Wake up, little one," he whispered seductively. "It is necessary that I learn your secrets, for they are vital for the continuation of purity in this world. That means, my dear, that you are vital, too."

She did not move an inch in response to his seductive voice. Therefore, the man decided to try by different means.

"Now look little one, I have no desire to be cruel," he began. "But you must see, it is in my disposition to use such abhorrent methods of persuasion. You have to speak to me right now, and you aren't listening to my normalcy." He pulled a long dagger from the depths of his cloak, and placed it on top of the woman. "Look at this, would you? It is made of iron, and the tip had been dipped into the venom of one of the most poisonous serpents known to wizards: Serpiente Peligrosa. Instead of killing you instantly, the venom will slowly sink in and then kill you, over three weeks, if not longer."

Still the woman did not acknowledge his presence, "I am growing very impatient little one. I suggest that you wake on your own rather than facing the oncoming pain. It is true indeed that you do have an ominous future ahead of you."

The man picked up the dagger with his left hand, and stated, "This is the last time I'll ask you to wake up on your own. The hell that you face will be the worst pain that you will ever have the pleasure of acknowledging in your entire life. Wake up!"

When the woman did not wake up like he demanded, the man shifted the dagger to his right, and with his left he picked up her nearest arm. He gently moved his hand down her arm, until he reached her pointer finger. After making sure that he would not prick her finger nail, he took the dagger, and thrusted it into the finger.

Quickly her eyes opened, and she gave a shriek of pain, and then put the finger into her mouth, trying to stop the pain. As her eyes watered, the man suggested, "I would not put that finger into my mouth, if I were you. After all,. it has to be full of poison."

He indicated towards the dagger, and she instantly held her injured hand to her body, trying to compose herelf. Though her breathing rate was ragged and heavy, she managed to ask meekly, "Who are you?"

"I'm glad you asked Miss Granger," the man grinned sadistically. "For I'm the Dark Lord, or perhaps you'll recognize this name better: Voldemort?"

Her eyes widened, and she gasped, "Evil!"

"That's right; I am evil!" He took the dagger, and whipped it across her face, causing her to scream in pain, and for the rest of the night, her screams echoed throughout the dark dungeon, with only the Dark Lord taking a sadistic pleasure for being able to hear them.

* * *

**A/N**

Thank you for reading the fourth chapter of this story, which by the way took forever to get out. I'm so sorry! But you must be pleased that I typed it up this weekend rather than doing the AP History essay that I should have been doing since it's due tommorrow, I think.

But that's besides the point! I know this was a filler chapter, but it needed to be done. It was just more history.

Anyways, please leave a review. It would be appreciated.

**Verbeia**


	5. Chapter 5

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER FIVE: TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE**

**_

* * *

_**

**_My body burn like there's a desert deep in me,  
A thirsty soul so unsatisfied.  
But there you are like a river to the sea.  
The one chance I have to change my life._**

**_Darling, take me away from here,  
Make it seem like we're a million miles away.  
Another time, another place.  
Make a different man  
Move me farther than I've ever been before;  
Show me that there's something more._**

**_Sometime I feel like I'm trapped inside myself,  
Spinning wheels up and down, round and round.  
Going nowhere, just like everybody else;  
With no touch, no sight, no sound._**

* * *

Her body ached in places that she never knew existed until this minute. Around three o'clock in the morning, the Dark Lord had disappeared, leaving her numb and scared, frightened that he would come back again, only to hurt her even worse. 

Luckily, for the past two hours, she was not quite sure about the time though, the Dark Lord had not returned, and she merely layed still, breathing deeply, trying to forget about the excrutiating pain, but it was a futile action. Nothing that she could do would get rid of the pain.

Moaning, she tried to find a more comfortable position, but it was impossible. So, she just closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. At first it did not work, because in the distance a howling of a wolf could be heard, and then the drips of nearby water, and then finally her own ragged breathing. But by that time, she was fast asleep, but could be awoken in minutes.

As she slept, the Dark Lord walked back into the premsises with two others: one was a man with pale blond hair that was slowly turning white, while the other was a woman around the same age as the one sleeping.

The old blond haired man sauntered up to the sleeping woman, and grabbed her curly hair forcefully. Pulling her up to get a better look, he growled, "It's definitely her, my Lord. She is the only one that I know with such hair."

"I know, Lucius," replied the Dark Lord. "You really didn't have to come all the way here to prove that small, insignificant detail to me since I already know because you're son just happened to inform me earlier."

The blond haired man, Lucius, growled again, "That boy's still alive, is he? What's he doing now? Continuining to betray you, my Lord?"

"Lucius, he's happens to be one of my best men, and I demand that you don't insult him since he just happens to be a higer rank than you are!" replied the Dark Lord, crossly. "Thus, you better be quiet or leave, those are your options. Now, I suggest that you take one of them, and make up your bloody mind before I make it up for you!"

Lucius bowed, and stepped aside, clearly showing that he would be quiet in the presence of the Dark Lord. Smirking slightly, the Dark Lord asked the woman, "Now, what are you going to do, Miss Parkinson?"

Smirking herself, she replied, "I will aide you my Lord with the best of my abilities." She bowed, and then waited for the Dark Lord's reaction.

He turned towards Lucius, who was standing as far away as possible, and stated smugly, "See Lucius? That is the proper way to speak to me. Very well done, Pansy."

"Thank you, my Lord," she replied, bowing. She then stepped away from him, but he indicated for her to come forward again. "Yes my Lord?"

"I would like to know if this is truly Hermione Granger, and that Draco was truly not lying to me as Lucius truly belives, Pansy," the Dark Lord requested. "So, you're opinion is?"

"It is very obvious, my Lord, that this _thing_ is clearly Hermione Granger," she replied. "For the hair is correct, as well as the build. Also, she has been unconcious for over an hour, and if it was the Pollyjuice potion, she would have already changed back."

"Very correct Miss Parkinson," agreed the Dark Lord. "I believe your reasoning to be very true. Isn't that correct Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied sullenly. "Her reasoning is flawless."

"No, I wouldn't say flawless, Lucius, for she is human, and is always entitled to making mistakes," reprimanded the Dark Lord. "However, her reasoning is much better than yours. Now what does that say about yourself?"

Lucius did not reply to the Dark Lord's question, so he answered it himself, "It clearly shows that you are becoming old, Lucius, and you know perfectly well that the aged are really no use to me. They are no longer strong, their minds become weak with greed and desire for youth. That is what you have become, Lucius, and I'm not sure if you are any more use to me."

Then suddenly the Dark Lord grinned sadistically, "But one thing that the elderly are good at doing is torturing others since they've had years of experience to know what methods are most sufficient at acquiring information. Isn't that true, Lucius?"

Grinning back at the Dark Lord, Lucius said, "You know perfectly well my Lord that I've never let you down when I torture the innoncents. I always obtain the desired information, and more."

"Exactly Lucius," smirked the Dark Lord. "That's why I have the world thinking you dead, for they've become cocky. Therefore, I capture them easily, they go to you, and amazingly enough the information comes out in larger amounts than ever before, and they still believe you're dead."

"Foolish Order of the Phoenix," mumbled Lucius, shaking his head. "Each and every one of them has teh brain sized of a peanut. Just like that stupid bird."

The Dark Lord and Pansy smirked, and finally the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the still sleeping woman. "I suggest that you start the torturing process unless you want her to sleep peacefully for the last time ever."

"Why would I do that?" asked Lucius sadistically. "Why would I ever do something so benevolent or kind? It's not helping us at all, now is it?"

Laughing, the Dark Lord said, "Now this is the exact reason why I have you around, Lucius!" He threw his wand at the blond man, who caught it without much movement. He walked commandingly towards the sleeping form, and once he reached her, he muttered a curse, and pressed the tip of the wand against her temple.

Pansy and the Dark Lord watched in silence as the woman suddenly sat up screaming bloody murder, and shivering in a frightful manner. Every single limb was shaking violently, and she tried to calm her body down by rocking. However, before she was successful, Lucius pulled her hair, and asked loudly, "Where is the Dark Lord's last Horcrux, Mudblood?"

Her eyes widened, but she did not reply. Instead she merely shivered, and closed her eyes, causing Lucius to roar in anger, and mutter another curse which caused huge red welts to burn onto her skin. Tears formed around her eyes, but she did not move at all.

-------------

She felt like she was burning up. Not in a fever type of way, but as if she was being burned alive at the stake for being a withc kind of way. She felt like she coudl do absolutely nothing to calm down the pain, even if she thrashed around, it seemed as if it only became worse.

Then she heard the continual screech of Hermione Granger. The words sounded extremely familiar, but just not familiar enough for her to understand the true meaning behind them. It was obviously a name, or perhaps an item, but the latter did not sound likely.

Through her mind she saw people that she hardly recognize say the word, and then she suddenly she recognized four because they were all in her locket in the form of pictures. She unconciously brought a hand to the locket, and allowed them to say the words over and over again.

She felt her eyes widen, and then she shivered, and closed her eyes. Those words formed her name, or at least her old name. She was called Hermione Granger, and her name was not Helen, even though that was an identitly that she took on for a while.

Whispering to herself, she said, "My name is Hermione Granger."

A cross voice replied sarcastically, "Of course Miss Granger, that's your name. But I'm not asking you what your blasted name is! I want to know where the Dark Lord's last Horcrux is located since we both believe that you have it!"

Her hand held the locket even more tightly than before, and she did not bother to answer the cruel man. Instead she allowed herself to be engulfed by the pain, and one word came into her mind.

Magic.

"It's actually real?" she asked. "It actually exists?"

"Of course the Horcrux exists Miss Granger," he sneered, "Or have you already forgot about that part of your life after your hiatis for the past three years, Mudblood? I knew it would be difficult breaking into your memories but I didn't think it would be this hard!"

"Perhaps you are losing your edge after all, Lucius," smirked the Dark Lord, but neither Lucius or Hermione heard him. Instead, she focused on her inner mind, and instantly she felt magic flowing through her veins, to every inch of her being.

Sneering, Lucius asked, "Isn't it just entertaining that the brightest witch in her year is now unable to escape from the Dark Lord?"

Pansy laughed, "No, it's even more entertaining to know that it was her lover that brought her here in the first place."

The Dark Lord laughed, "It was quite a sight, or thought, that one of my best men was breaking the heart of a respected Order members. Oh, the irony."

Turning around Lucius asked, "My son was dating this Mudblood?"

Before either the Dark Lord or Pansy could reply, Hermione muttered, "I am not a Mudblood."

Pointing the Dark Lord's wand directly at her heart, Lucius yelled the worst curse he could think of at Hermione, and watched as a bright, florescent orange engulfed the room. Quickly, random body parts of the girl changed shape and size to become something that would never be seen again. Lucius appeared proud of his handiwork, while Pansy looked slightly sick at the switching body parts. The Dark Lord merely stared unchalantly at the girl with a gleam in his eye.

Little did any of her onlookers realize that Hermione had shifted all of her energy towards her mind so that she would not feel the pain. True, it would be a dull ache for the rest of her life, but it was better than the continuation of pain for hours or days.

However, instead of her mind staying empty, she began to rememember the last thing of her original life. There was a blond haired boy, and they were in the middle of a battle field...

She felt grimy, and dirty, and altogether awful. They had not won the battle, which meant that they did not win the war. Harry has his chance to destroy Voldemort, but instead neither were killed. Harry merely broke his arm in five places. The Med-Witch almost had to amputate it, but Ginny would not allow that to happen.

In fact, there was almost no casualties on either side. They were all living, except that he had the upper hand for he was still immortal, and offered immortality to others. Beign the fools that they were, they immediately accepted his offer, although anyone with half a brain would realize that he would never keep his promises. That was just not how the Dark Lord thought.

Since she was far into her reverie, she hardly noticed as her boyfriend walked up behind her, and pulled her into a hug.

"I knew you would be up here, Hermione," he whispered. They looked out across the battle field, taking in the sight of blood and death.

"We were lucky, weren't we?" she asked. "So many have died."

"And so many have lived," he reminded her.

She shook her head, "Draco, we lost. What's the chance that they'll continue to live after tonight? He has the upper hand, and until we destroy-" She fingered the locket that she wore around her neck, but did not continue the thought.

"Destroy what, Hermione?"

"Never mind, Draco, it really doesn't matter anymore," she replied, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Well, if it's still worrying you, then it has to matter, Hermione," he stated, smiling. "Because you are not the type to worry over nothing. So what is it?"

She bit her lip, and looked across the field. Then she suddenly turned around and walked into the building, the current Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. He followed her slowly through the building, and when she arrived in the desired room, the library, and picked up the nearest book, he finally asked, "What is it?"

Opening the book, she pointed towards a paragraphy, "Would you believe me if I said that we had not destroyed all the Horcruxes?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Hermione, they are all destroyed. Why would we have had this battle today if it wasn't true?"

"Because you were all careless and stupid!" she screeched. "Why else would he still be alive right now, unharmed? The truth is that he still has a piece of soul out and about the place, and I want to find it right now!"

She was now crying uncontrolably, and he wrapped her into a hug, trying to calm her down. It was a futile attempt though for she was extremely upset.

Finally he sighed, "Hermione, they are all destroyed, and we just underestimated his power, which made this end badly. It's nobody's fault."'

"I never said it was anybody's fault," she replied. "I just said that there is still a Horcrux out there somewhere." He grinned slightly as he indicated towards the window, "And that we have to find it before it simply disappears and we can never find it again in order to save humanity."

Suddenly his grin disappeared, and he stated somberly, "There is somthing that I need to tell you, Hermione."

She looked at him quizically, "What is it?"

He grabbed her hands, and held them tightly in his own. "The thing is Hermione, the Dark Lord plans to kill all Muggleborns first."

"How do you know that?" she asked, feeling tears come into the corner of her eyes. "How could you possibly know that Draco?"

"For the last few meetings he has been telling us the plan because he was absolutely positive that they would win instead of the Order," he replied. He gently released her left hand, and grabbed his wand. "So, please forgive me for what I have to do, Hermione."

"What do you have to do?" she asked, suddenly frightened at what he planned to do. Was he going against her even though he constantly said that he loved her with all of his heart? Was he going to kill her to save her from being killed by the Dark Lord? What was he going to do?

Before she could worry any more, he muttered a quick spell, and as the light engulfed the entire area, she heard him mumble, "I love you."

Then, her mind went completely blank.

Hermione's eyes opened, and she stared at a man that looked like an older version of the man that she had just been speaking to in her memory. However, he appeared much crueler than the one that she knew she loved.

Sneering, the man asked, "Are you ready to tell me where the Horcrux is, Miss Grangers?"

She shook her head, "I would never tell you."

"Defiant now, are we? Well that just means I'll just have to bring back that nasty curse! You remember that one, don't you? The excruciating pain, or so they tell me. It made each and every single limb of yours change form and size. Surely you don't want that back?"

Her eyes widened but she did not reply. Instead, she glared at Lucius, causing him to reaply the curse, with a smirk, "I don't think you're dear friends Potter and Weasley are going to come and rescure you. It just wouldn't work because they've forgotten all about you!"

"They would never forget me!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering her two best friends as the pain escalated to a new height that she never expected to feel in her entire life. Convulsions and spasms warped through her body as she remembered. They had done everything together ever since the troll incidence in their first year, and indignantly she recalled that it was not her fault that they hated her from day one. But then again, perhaps she had been kind of bossy and stuck up. "We've been friends for a long time, and we shall remain so!"

Lucius laughed irascibly, "Do you really think that you would remain their friend, even though you were in love with their enemy?"

Opening her eyes, she scrutinized the blond haired torturer, and then spat "What do you mean? I would never be friends with their enemy!"

The only woman in the cave stepped forward, and crooned, "Hermione Granger! What a surprise! I wonder, do you remember me?" She struck a pose, showing off her new figure that was not as pugish as it had been in her earlier years. "I noticed that you haven't changed any, but what about me?"

Hermione stared at the other woman, and then finally whispered, "Pansy Parkinson?"

"Who else do you think I would be?" she asked speciously. She walked around Lucius, giving him a pointed look that clearly indicated to leave the next few minutes all to her, which caused him to smirk in return since he knew perfectly well that she had been waiting for the moment when she could teach the overwrought witch a well deserved lesson. "Now, do you remember a certain man called Malofy? Draco Malfoy?"

She removed Lucius' curse off of Hermione, and waited rather patiently until the witch was able to sit up. As she waited, she crossed her arms, and glared patronizingly, then finally asked when Hermione was settled in a somewhat comfortable position, "Well, do you recall that name? Does it ring any bells?" She put her nose up into the air in an imperious manner, and walked even closer to Hermione, and grabbed the discarded Dark Lord's wand, and placed the tip of it on Hermione's nose. "So, your verdict will be?"

Shrugging, Hermione replied nervously, "I don't know who he is."

"Liar!" screeched Pansy. "You and everyone else in this room knows perfectly well that you know who Draco Malfoy is and your indescent relations with him!"

She muttered a curse, and a new feeling of pain coursed through Hermione's body, causing her to faint, and dwelve back into her memories. She remembered more about Harry and Ron, for their names were well known in her mind, as well as the other Weasleys and members of the Order of the Phoenix, including school friends and enemies. Finally, her mind stopped on a rather peculiar scene.

"Harry? Where are you?" she called into the Black's kitchen. When she had entered the house, she had been careful not to shout in front of Sirius' mother's portrait just in case she decided to scream bloody murder which would cause the entire house and even the entire neighborhood to wake up in the middle of the night.

Actually, it was hours past midnight, at least three o'clock in the morning, but not another soul was to be found, and Harry promised to be back with Ron and the next Horcrux that night.

Except that they were still not there, even though she had searched all of Great Britain and if not half of Europe for the past three days.

Therefore, it was quite obvious to state that she was exhausted beyond words, and that she would prefer nothing better than a hot bowl of stew and a good week of rest. Except that she could not cook well, and that she was too worried about her friends to be able to sleep for long or well.

"Harry are you back yet?" she asked into the kitchen again. When she received no reply, she decided to walk into the room herself, just to make sure that she would not find him engaged with a bowl of good stew, and with his mouth entangled with Ginny. They were certainly becoming more than friends faster than Ron could scream, 'Get away from my sister!'

Laughing silently at the thought of Ron's ire, but secret satisfaction, she walked into the kitchen, only to find that her two friends not there. Instead she saw him, voraciously eatting a bowl of the stew that was slowly making her mouth water.

As soon as she entered the premises, he instantly jumped out of the chair he occupied, and was about to run away, but she shook her head, and indicated for him to sit down again. After a few seconds of just staring at her nervously, he obliged to her wishes and sat back down again, and stared at the bowl.

She crossed the room, nervous, and also stared at the bowl of stew, allowing the scent to sweep her senses away. Her stomach growled, which caused him to flinch, and then she asked, "Is there any more left?"

"In the pot over there," he said, indicating towards the nearest. Quickly she went to it, and avariciously used the scoop to put the still steaming stew into the nearest bowl. She didn't particulary care if the bowl was dirty or clean. All that she cared about was eatting.

She sat down tentatively across the table from him, but once she was sitting, she dwelved straight into the food, and ignored his presence until half of the stew was gone. After wipping some gravy from the corner of her mouth, she finally asked, feeling a new audacity about her that made her feel dauntless, "What are you doing here, Malfoy? You do realize that you have entered enemy territory right?"

Rolling his eyes, he replied, "No need to be so spiteful, Granger. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be here."

"That doesn't answer my question!" she hissed. "Now why are you here, and what are you planning on doing?"

"Nothing, Granger," he anwered. "Except that Dumbledore, that idiot, offered the protection of the Order, and I would be a fool to refute such a request."

"Don't call Dumbledore an idiot," she reproached crossly. Crossing her arms, she asked, "So why did you except his offer, Malfoy? I didn't think you would be the type to give up before winning."

"Don't even bother trying to flatter me, Granger," he hissed back. "We both know that I'm weak, and a follower. I don't hold any power, and I only hold reverence towards those who do. I am neither intelligent or stupid, nor powerful or weak. I just am with really no options but to choose the side that won't kill me if a screw up."

Looking at him puzzled, she asked, "Then why did you choose Voldemort's side?"

He flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, and then shrugged afterwards. "Because it was the easy choice. My father was already on his side, and he promised power and glory, and they have always appealed to me."

He saw the dismayed and indignantion upon her face as she stood up, and walked around the table, and then towards him. He sighed, "You really should have expected that anser, for its the honest truth."

Sighing herself, she leaned against the table, and asked softly, "So, have you actually changed your ways, or are you just going to sit around, waiting until the perfect moment to strike back at the ones who are protecting you?"

He glanced up at her, and asked, "Are you actually allowing me to remain here, Granger?"

"I'm not allowing you to do anything until you answer the bloody question!"

As she finished the exclamation, he merely grinned, "Well, I sure hope this proves my change of heart, as you so eloquently put it." He stood up, and suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her towards him.

She was slightly frightened, but she felt more flustered than real fear. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"This," he whsipered, and suddenly his lips were upon hers in the most blissful kiss she had ever experienced in her entire life. It continued for what seemed like forever, all fireworks and ecstasy that were perpetual and everlasting. Yet, by the time they finished, it did seem like time past quickly for it was almost two hours later, and the sun was coming up over the horizon.

"Well," he said, breathing heavily. "Perhaps we should inform the Order about my new position as Spy."

When she heard the news she almost fainted.

As the memory finished, Hermione felt tears forming in the corner of her eyes again. It was true, Malfoy had been her friend's enemy, not nearly to the degree of the Dark Lord of course, but an antagonist none the less.

Seeing the formation of the tears, the Dark Lord asked viciously, "Ready to talk, Mudblood?"

She shook her head in pure defiance, and both Lucius and Pansy grinned; both prepared to continue the torture and acts of pure evil which they were quite accostumbed to. However, before eithe could use their wands to bring about Hermione's pain and anguish, she screamed.

There was really no reason why Hermione screamed, but she felt an urge within in her to do so, as if it would help her cause rather than deter it. The Dark Lord and his Death Eater's instantaneously covered their ears because of the sound, and the sound carried through the caves, and echoed throughout the entire area.

-------------

A little ways away from the caves, Malfoy with Hary, Ginny, and Ron were waiting patiently until they could rescue Hermione. They had all been somewhat nervous for the past few hours since Malfoy clearly indicated and stated that it was not the right time to rescue their friend.

However, when they all heard a petrifying scream throughout the area, each and everyone of their muscles clenched in anticipation and terror of the ominous future.

Raising an eyebrow at Malfoy, Harry asked, "Is that the signal?"

He nodded his head, "I do believe that is the signal."

"Your not sure?" asked Ron, confused. "I thought you were the one that put it on her, so shouldn't you know if its working or not, or are you really that incompetent of a wizard?"

"I'm surprised that Weasel even knew the word _incompetent_," sneered Malfoy, causing Ginny to wince.

"Please don't fight," she pleaded, and then she suddenly changed her voice, and demanded in a rather Molly-like fashion, "Don't fight, argue, bicker, or even dare to have a row."

Ron scrunched up his nose in distaste, and Harry shook his head, "Let's start the rescuing escapade, also known as, trifle with the Dark Lord number Nine."

Malfoy beckoned for the others to follow him, and soon they were running through the dark chambers of the caves until they found the proper one. It was not that difficult since the sound of the screaming became even louder and even more deafening. Therefore, after barely five minutes of running and searching, they all had their hands over their ears, and were entering the cavern in which they saw four bodies.

Three were covering their ears, with a look of pure terror and oncoming headaches, while the fourth was continuing to scream. For a quick moment Malfoy had to admire her vocal cords since he never realized that she could scream so loudly, but quickly he shook the thought away. He had bigger problems to deal with.

Like the fact that his father was standing in the same room as Pansy and the Dark Lord.

Shaking his head, he cast a qucick stunner as Lucius turned around to see who had disturbed the peace, or better yet who had entered the area since it was no where near peaceful. He fell down, crumpled on the ground, and he ordered, "They're weak right now, so knock the other two down, right now!"

Ron and Ginny nodded their heads, and they shot a dozen or so spells at the remaing two standing. Like Lucius, they had not expected the spells, and quickly crumpled onto the ground, even though it would only be temporary because none of them could be called weak.

Therefore, Harry and Malfoy ran over towards Hermione, both ignoring the terrorizing screeches and hideous bruises and marks upon her skin, and tried to appease her. For a minute it did not seem to work, but as soon as Malfoy bent over to pick up the dagger beside the bed since it caught his eye, and Harry was the only one at her side, she quited.

Surprised, Harry whispered, "I'll take care of you, Hermione."

She nodded her head like a small child, and Harry offered to carry, and she quickly obliged to his request. Silently, Harry walked towards the exit of the room, avoiding the limp bodies on the ground. Ginny and Ron walked silently behind them, and Malfoy looked about the room.

The Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were starting to stir, and wasting no more time, he fled the room, telling the others to hurry up, away from the area. As they exited the caves, Malfoy overheard the girl in Harry's arms as she whispered, "I remember."

He nodded his head, and she curled up into his arms, obviously comfortable in the position, especially after what had occurred that night. Ron and Ginny looked at Hermione sympathetically, while all that Draco could feel was jealously, but secretly he was more happy than angered.

She was back.

* * *

**A/N**

The fifth chapter is finally up! I'm so glad, even though it seems like another strange chapter, but it was somewhat necessary, right?

Well, please review, they would be appreciated, since I received none for the last chapter.

Hint, hint.

**Verbeia**


	6. Chapter 6

**WHO YOU'D BE TODAY**

**CHAPTER SIX: BRING IT ON HOME**

__

* * *

**_Someone who loves you more than life, right here.  
You got willing arms that'll hold you tight;  
A hand to lead you on through the night, right here.  
_****_I know your heart can get all tangled up inside,  
But don't keep it to yourself._**

**_When your long day is over,  
And you can barely drag your feet,  
The weight of the world is on your shoulder,  
I know what you need:  
Bring it on home to me._**

* * *

Upon entering the Black's silent house, Ginny and Ron ran up the stairs to find an empty and quiet room for Hermione to rest for the next few days. They all knew she had gone through a very traumatic situation, and would most likely want a few days of peace and quiet before answering their questions.

Harry gently carried her body through the doorway, taking care not to brush against the curtains of the psychotic portrait. It would be a terrible ordeal if she started screaming bloody murder, causing not only Hermione, but the entire house to wake up. If that occurred, it was quite obvious to assume that she would not get the needed rest.

Luckily, he passed by flawlessly, and she was placed into the bed within minutes. Gently, Harry kissed her forehead, bursting with happiness of her being there for the first time in years. Ginny and Ron, standing in the doorway, allowed the quiet moment between Harry and Hermione for they all realized that the disapperance of the girl had effected Malfoy and Harry the most.

However, at the moment, Malfoy seemed to be nowhere around, so it was safe to assume that in the room, Harry cared the most about the tired girl, although Ron and Ginny would disagree to a certain point for the cared about Hermione as much as Harry did. But they understood that without Hermione, the Order would never be able to defeat the Dark Lord. Thus, they allowed Harry to take care of her that night.

Once he was satisfied Hermione would be comfortable throughout the rest of the night, Harry exited the room with Ron and Ginny at his heels. He closed the door, and suddenly the wolves were upon him.

Anxiously, Ginny asked, "So, did she say anything, Harry?"

"Why would she?" reprimanded Ron. "Isn't it obvious that she's sleeping like a rock, and will continue in this fashion until the end of time?"

"I highly doubt that Ron!" she exclaimed. "She'll have to wake up eventually. Not everyone is as lazy as you think they are!"

"I never said she was lazy," replied Ron, crossing his arms across his chest. "I was merely saying that from the minute she was rescued to the minute she wakes up fully, she won't say nothing."

"Double negative, Ron," criticized Ginny, raising an eyebrow. "What would Hermione say if she heard you using such awful grammar?" Then, Ginny smirked, "But since two negatives always make a positive-" She tilted her head to the right side, and then corrected herself, "Or at least for multiplication- it must mean that Hermione has already spoken, right Harry?"

Harry who had barely listened to the sibblings bickering turned his attention back towards the redheaded girl. "What did you say, Ginny?"

Sighing, clearly irritated, Ginny asked, "Has she said anything yet?"

"O," Harry said. He then nodded his head. "She has spoken to me already."

"Well? What did she say?" implored Ginny. "Was it anything interesting, or secretive, or something important, or anything at all?"

Harry gave a small laugh, "You did not make any sense just then, Ginny."

"That's besides the point!" She turned around to her brother and asked forcefully, "Isn't that right Ron?" Her brother looked sheepishly at her, and in return she scowled, and turned to face Harry again. "Okay, so maybe it was bad grammar and I just butchered the English language, but what did she say?"

"Nothing really," replied Harry. "She just said that remembered."

"You don't consider that important, mate?" asked Ron. "She said she remembers, so isn't that god news?"

Harry shrugged yet again, "Im not sure if it is good news or not. I just find it peculiar that she told me she remembers. Shouldn't she have always remembered us?"

Biting her lip, Ginny answered, "I suppose when you say it like that, the phrasing she used does sound a bit strange. But who knows what has happened to her for the past three years."

They looked at each other for a few minutes, and then Ron finally yawned, "Well, whatever has happened for the past three years can surely wait for one more day, since I'm dead tired."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "I'm tired, too." She waved at the two boys, and said her good nights, and went to her room which was just across from Hermione's. The boys shrugged at each other, clearly taking it as a sign to go to bed themselves. Therefore they both stated good night, and went to their respective rooms for a night of rest, anxiously waiting for the morning to arrive.

-------------

The bright morning sunshine entered through the window, broadcasting a large blue sky despite the fact that it was early spring. Typical London weather included rain, smog, and grey clouds, but a blue sky was a nice change.

Except that Hermione had no clue that she was currently in said city.

In fact, she adamently believed she was anywhere except for London because she could not remember what had occurred at all for the past few days or weeks. It was all a large blurb with no discerning from reality and imagination.

However, she was in a comfortable bed with gold and red with a hint of green sheets and comforter, which just happened to be her favorite. The pillows were fluffy, and her entire body ached but she was not sure how it came to be. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to go back into a peaceful slumber for a few more minutes. It was peace and quiet after a long and arduous mental and physical anguish.

Before she could get too comfortable, she suddenly heard a loud crash from downstairs, and then a frightful screech from a woman.

Being a curious human being since a young age, Hermione sat up straight, and crawled out of the bed. The room's air was cool, yet very nice as soon as it touched her bare skin. Yet, she was grateful she wore a thick cloak that she did not recognize as her own.

Pulling the cloak closer to her body, she gently walked over the wooden floor and turned the doorknob, opening it. She stepped into the hall, and followed the sound of the screeching which had not abated. She passed many doors, and since one was slightly ajar, she peeked in, and was amazed to see the most impressive library she had ever seen before.

Then, she remembered, she had seen the library before, except that it was lost somewhere in her mind.

Shaking her head, she turned around, and walked towards the staircase. As she descended the pristine stairs, she noticed immediately that no more commotion from below. In fact, it was almost creepily quiet and tranquil. Suddenly nervous, Hermione bit her bottom lip, and then looked at the very bottom step. Once she saw who was standing there, she gave a small gasp and then raced down the stairs.

Therefore, it was no surprise when she tripped on the last step and the man standing there had to catch her before she fell.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, giving him a tight hug, which he gladly returned. "I can't believe you are here!"

"Shouldn't it be kind of opposite, Hermione?" he replied with a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes were glistening with laughter and mirth. "After all, you were the one missing for three years!"

She sighed, "I was hoping that it had only been three months or three days instead." She released her friend from the hug, and he shrugged in reply to her wish. Looking slightly defeated, they stood facing each other for a few minutes in the quiet, until she asked while sniffing the air, "What do I smell Harry? It smells rather appetizing."

He made a face of disgust, which caused Hermione to raise an eyebrow of surprise, and in a sullen voice he said, "Portridge Hermione."

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "What's wrong with portridge, Harry?"

In response, Harry beckoned Hermione to follow him into the kitchen, and as they entered the occupants, which composed of most of the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks turned to glance at them as they entered, but ended up staring.

After a few seconds of unabashed staring, Molly Weasley finally asked, "Hermione, dear? Is that really you?"

Giving the Weasley matriarch a small smile, Hermione nodded her head, "Yes. I'm really Hel- wait, I meant to say Hermione." She shook her head as the room's occupants glanced at her with raised eyebrows. Shrugging, she said, "I am too used to being called Helen, instead of my actual name, Hermione, because I couldn't remember it. It's actually kind of funny if you think about it-"

Before she could continue with her tirade, Molly gave the girl a bone crushing hug with tears falling from her eyes. "It's really you!"

Hermione glanced over the sobbing woman's shoulder, and mouthed, "Help," towards Harry, who in return mouthed, "It's your fault for disappearing for three years." She replied with wrinkling her nose, and sticking out her tongue, a rather childish display.

However, before Hermione had to worry much longer, Ron stated, "Mum, we know that you are really happy to see her, and in fact, we all are, but you don't have to kill her to make sure she never disappears again."

Molly released Hermione, and rounded towards her son, and glared irately at her son, and then suddenly she bawled, "First it was George and Fred, and now my youngest son is going against me! O why do you have to do this?"

Rolling their eyes, Fred and George answered, "Maybe if you actually had a sense of humor, mum, it would not seem as if we were always antagonizing you."

"Having dyed water in animalistic shapes was not the least bit funny," she growled. "It could have almost been anything. It could have been the Death Eaters attacking this building, and we would have not known because we are so used to stupidity in the shape of your jokes and madness! You two could be the cause for the destruction of the Order's entire base!"

"Molly," interrupted Lupin suddenly. "Don't you think you are overacting? There was no harm done." He grinned, and then added, "Besides, do you really think Death Eaters would be clever enough to initiate the different types of tricks up Fred and George's sleeves?"

Sighing, Molly said, "I suppose you are right, but they should stop."

"We will never mum!" the twins chorused, causing Hermione to shake her head. She remembered perfectly well their humor and trouble making habits.

She walked around the table, trying to appear more confident than she actually was, and Harry followed her, for which she was immensely grateful. The others still felt like strangers even though she knew she loved them without a second thought. It just still felt awkward.

As she sat down, she felt hungry; therefore, she asked, "What is there to eat?"

Around the table, everyone suddenly groaned, which caused Hermione to raise an eyebrow. If she remembered correctly, Molly was an excelent cook, and no one ever complained about her food. It would be strange if that changed in the past three years.

However, before she could continue to speculate, Ginny who had remained rather out of sight and sound announced, "For the past three of two years, for breakfast every single day, we have ate portridge."

"What's wrong with portridge?" asked Hermione, confused.

Ron groaned, and patted his stomach. "Let's see you eat it bland every single day for a long time."

"Point taken," agreed Hermione. Then, she asked, "But why?"

"Why what?" asked Molly mildly, filling up a bowl of the despised portridge by the stove. Once it was filled she walked to Hermione, and placed it in front of her with a spoon so that she could eat it.

As Hermione took the first bite, she asked again, "Why is it necessary to eat portridge?"

"Voldemort controlling most of Europe?" replied Ron sarcastically. "Does that ring any bells? O, wait I forgot, you were missing for three years, so obviously you don't remember."

Everyone looked at the redhead in shock, but he looked unconcerned with the sarcastic remark he had just made towards his friend. As the minutes passed by, Molly's shocked expression turned towards one with tears coming from the corner of her eyes, and the Weasley men stared menancingly towards Ron, while Lupin had a severe twist to his lips. Only Harry seemed the least bit to throttle Ron.

Therefore, he mumbled in Hermione's direction, "Remember, Hermione, Ron has always had a strange way of saying that he is pleased that you are back."

She nodded her head, remembering that Ron, in fact, often overreacted to rather simple matters, and obviously he would say something spiteful and demoralizing. It was his way of showing affection, even though it was absolutely strange and horrid if one did not know the reality of the situation.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to control the trembling of her body, she stated, more for the other's benefit than Ron's, "It's alright. I suppose I should have not been so careless to disappear for three years." She sighed, and then shrugged. "But there really was no help for it, and I appologize."

Lupin shook his head, while scooping up a spoonful of portridge, "There is no need to appologize to us, Miss Granger. We have merely missed you for the past three years. But enough talk, let's eat, and then continue with the dark talk."

The others nodded their heads in agreement, and for the next hour, Hermione enjoyed listening and participating in unimportant conversations about the twin's escapades, Muggle technology, and the difference between democratic and republican governments. As the time went by, Hermione could not help but to think that it was nice to be back with the one's that she loved imensely.

However, as Molly Weasley washed and put away the dishes they used for breakfast, Hermione asked yet again, "What is the reason for plain, bland portridge as the only breakfast food?"

Harry sighed, "You know perfectly well that Voldemort-" The room suddenly became quieter, but both Harry and Hermione ignored the silence. "Controls Great Britain, most of Europe, a lot of countries that are neither here or there, right?" When Hermione nodded her head, he continued, "Well, because his control extends to such borders, he found himself in drastic need for cooperation and support. And the best way to get it, was through the stomachs of witches, wizards, and muggles alike."

"So, are you saying that only Death Eaters and his supporters may consume the good types of food?" Hermione asked. When Harry nodded his head, she sighed, "I suppose that makes sense, for who would want to eat portridge every single day for years?"

"No one?" suggested Ron, joining the conversation. "But then again, it is not every day. After all, we do have some spies that bring us some good food every so often. But mum only cooks it on Sundays just for the sake of tradition."

Nodding his head, Harry added, "It is a nice change, and in a strange way, it helps us to survive through the week." Hermione gave him a strange look, so he added, "Both figuratively and literally."

"That makes sense?" she said, but then she just shook her head, and mumbled, "I don't really want to know or understand, do I?"

"Probably not," grinned Harry and Ron. "Since it is more of a boy thing. Speaking of which, don't you want to know who are wonderful spy is that brings us the good and delicios food which only the Death Eaters may eat?"

She raised an eyebrow, and shrugged, "I really don't care one way or another."

"When we finish you will care," Harry stated, drumming his fingers on the table. "Since his name begins with a 'D' and ends with a 'Y'."

"That means absolutely nothing to me, Harry," she chided. "You have to be much more particular with who you are talking about. Don't give the initials or whatever the are, since I hardly remember what happened before I went to the island."

Harry and Ron looked questioningly at Hermione, and then at the same time they asked what the considered the most important question. For Harry, he asked, "Didn't you say that you remember?" While, Ron asked, "You were living on an island?"

They were causing such an uprising at the table, that the attention of the others returned to them yet again. Raising an eyebrow, Lupin asked cautiously, "Would you care to inform us what you are discussing?"

His question instantly quieted the turmoil between the three friends, and Harry replied, "We were beginnng to discuss Hermione's little adventure on the island, but were almost sidetracked with other information."

"Like?" prodded Ginny, thinking that she knew what the boys were attempting to do. It was a nice gesture, but unless Hermione actually asked about his whereabouts, it would probably be best to leave it alone. Therefore, she gave them a glare which clearly indicated what she believed should occur. Understanding the movement, the boys grinned sheepishly, and Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny beat him to it. Turning to Hermione, she asked, "So, no matter how I say this, it won't come out all that great, so perhaps it would be best to blatantly ask it: where were you?"

Shrugging, Hermione replied, "On an island."

"Where?" questioned Tonks.

"In the Mediterranean, I believe," Hermione answered, not quite sure if she was correct or not. "But it is possible that it could be elsewhere."

Harry shook his head, "No, it was definitely the Mediterranean, because you were living on the island of Crete." After giving Harry a meaningful look, Hermione waited patiently until he elaborated, which he did. "Ron and I found a man on the Turkish beach after a fight. He was clearly Muggle. That was quite some time ago, wasn't it, Ron?"

The redheaded man nodded his head, "Yeah, but we think he was kind of crazy because he talked about a peaceful place with no war, no fighing, no discrimination. No nothing if you want to be exact."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Did you by chance ask for a name?"

Nodding his head, Harry replied, "He said his name was Nathan Orwell."

"Old Man Nathan," she mumbled, looking off into the distance with a dreamy expression. "I thought he was dead. Well, actually Dunite thought he was dead, but I truly believed he would still be alive from the first minute he disappeared."

"Well, the truth is," began Harry nervously, causing Hermione to whip her head around to stare at him. "He died."

Her eyes widened, and the first word that came to mind was, "How?"

Looking sympathetically at his friend, Ron answered, "He was basically dead when we rescued him, but we were lucky enough to make his last few hours pleasant ones."

She looked around the table, seeing the blatant displays of sympathy across all of their faces. She was never one to wish for sympathy herself or to ever give it towards others. She adamently believed that the emotion was always a wasted effort since nothing one could never say or do the right thing to lessen the pain. It depended on oneself to move forward, away from the pain and anguish.

Shaking her head, she mumbled, "I'm glad that he died peacefully for he truly was a good friend." She looked up at Harry, and then asked curiously, "Would you happen to know what happened to the other people on the island, Harry?"

He shrugged, "I don't particularly know. That is something you would have to bring up with Mal-"

"With Malvina," interrupted Ginny quickly, nodding her head in a rather nervous way. "Um, yes, she's the Order's secretary and she knows all the information which can't be disclosed at the time being. Right Harry?"

After a second of looking confused and rather dubious of the lie, Harry nodded his head, "Yes, that's correct. Thanks Ginny for reminding me of that small fact."

She smiled radiantly in reply, "I'm glad I could be helpful, Harry." In response, the corners of his mouth turned upwards, and Hermione found herself grinning slightly at the sight of her friend and his apparent girlfriend, or at least his soon to be girlfriend. They were incredibly obvious, especially when they smiled, or in this case, grinned at each other during an important meeting of sorts.

Clearing his throat, Ron observed, "Why don't we continue on with buisness then?" The Order members appeared to agree with the idea, and both Harry and Ginny looked away from each other at the same time with a huge blush covering their faces, causing those who knew them best to grin at the sight. In the back of Hermione's mind, she could not help but to think that some things had not changed over the past three years. Harry and Ginny's romance included.

Therefore, for the next hour Hermione allowed the Order of the Phoenix members to bombard her with a variety of questions that included how she ended up on the island by the courteosy of a boat and a crew of benevolent Scandinavian sailors who wanted to help as many Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards as possible, how Crete disappeared which was the wonderful idea of Old Man Nathan himself on the first day of arrival, and how they lived for the past three years.

By the time Hermione had finished with her narrative of her adventures in the Mediterranean Sea, most of the morning had passed by, as well as a good portion of the afternoon. However, neither Hermione or the Order felt as if they were done discussing the last three years.

In fact, Hermione was the first one to initiate the more immediate problem the wizarding world faced through her next statement.

"I know the reason we lost the first time around."

They stared at her as if she grew an extra head for a few minutes. They all had their mouths agape with question eyebrows and looks in their eyes. In fact, for the first time in his life Ron appeared to be truly speechless, and Harry appeared to be puzzled immensely. Finally, Tonks asked, "Would you care to elaborate, Hermione?"

Nodding her head, Hermione touched the locket that hung around her neck, and stated, "The last Horcrux was not destroyed."

Harry shook his head immediately upon hearing those words, "No Hermione. Don't you remember that we destroyed all of them. In fact, we made sure we destroyed all of them before chasing down Voldemort."

Some members winced upon hearing the name, including Ron, but he managed to say, "Harry's right, Hermione. The Horcruxes have been destroyed. The only problem currently is that we haven't had a chance to kill him yet."

"No," Hermione disagreed adamently. "That's not the reason nor the cause. The locket is still a Horcrux, and until it is destroyed, Voldemort will still be invincible."

Looking puzzled, Ginny asked timidly, "But even if the locket wasn't destroyed, shouldn't it be useless now because Harry destroyed him a bit, so wouldn't he have to use a Horcrux in order to remain alive?"

Hermione shook her head, "The trouble is, in the final battle, nothing really happened between them. All that occurred was a few curses, a really nice light show, and then a wounded Harry and a powerful Dark Lord. Therefore, as you obviously stated earlier, he now has power over the wizarding world, practically around the world. Like the British empire: _The sun never sets over the Dark Lord's reign._"

The Order members looked perplexed at the reference to British imperialism, however, Hermione ignored their strange looks and continued, "See this locket that I'm wearing currently-" She watched as they nodded, trying to understand the point of seeing said object. "Well, I have reason to believe that it is the last Horcrux."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry asked, "And that reason would be, Hermione?"

"It looks exactly like the one that you salvaged from the beach location with Dumbledore. You remember that right? The one with R. A. B.?"

"The one you never solved completely?" asked Lupin, looking directly at Hermione, as if he suddenly understood the direction that she was slowly pulling the Order towards.

She nodded, "Yes, that one. Everyone believed that whoever R. A. B was, he or she for that matter, destroyed the Horcrux, and that was it. But, I and someone else-" Hermione suddenly glanced off into the distance with a unexplainable expression on her face as if she did not know something or someone imortant, "Discovered that the Horcrux was still existing; therefore, for the longest time we searched for it and eventually found it. However, before it could be destroyed, Harry, you went to fight Voldemort without giving me a chance to reprimand the idea."

"Sorry?" said Harry sheepishly. Then changing his facial expression into something more commanding he asked, "So are you sure it's actually the real thing, and not something made up?"

Before she could reply, the closed door was slammed open, and a furious look was sent around the room from the blond haired man. Crossing his arms, and strolling across the room towards Harry, he demanded, "What was the meaning this? Wasn't it quite obvious that I too, would want to see her?"

Ginny stood, and raced towards his side, and pulled him away from Harry gently, and pleaded, "Don't get upset Draco, we weren't quite sure how she would react to you yet. Please, just sit down and act calm until we understand the given situation." Giving him a condescending look, she asked, "You wouldn't want to upset her, now would you?"

After a fierce look from Malfoy towards the Weaselys and then the Order as a whole, he allowed Ginny to pull him towards a chair that was across the table from Harry and Hermione. As he settled down, he hardly noticed the coy glances Hermione was giving him.

But before anything else could be said, Hermione stated calmly while crossing her arms, and looking strangely commanding and important, "There is still one more Horcrux, like it or not."

Ron disagreed, "No, there is not," when Malfoy interrupted with a snarl, "I agree with Granger. One is still in existence, and I personally think she's wearing it around her neck, right now."

Gaping and the blond, Ron stuttered, "What?"

"Isn't it obvious? Now, instead of letting more flies engulf your brain, Weasely, why don't you plan something productive so that it can be destroyed as soon as possible, and then you can consume something other than oatmeal for breakfast?"

In response to Malfoy's condescending response, Ron's eyes widened at the thought of better food for breakfast rather than oatmeal, and agreed, "Hey Harry, why don't we start some research? The sooner we begin, the sooner we'll find answer, and the sooner the food'll come?"

Hermione tried to resist the urge to smile or laugh, but at the gaiety of Ron's features she could not help but to smirk and his sudden chipperness. Even Mrs. Weasely was trying to hold back a grin, which was an unusual endeavour for the matriarch of the family.

So, with a new goal in mind, Ron bounced out of the room, and Harry followed him with a grimace upon his face. After all, he was the one who had to be with Ron throughout his unique mood swings that even he did not understand despite the fact of being friends for ten years.

The Order members began to follow Harry after he disappeared through the door, but not before giving both Hermione and Malfoy strange looks. Confused, Hermione watched the blond man through the corner of her eye, and then eventually resolved that she would have to speak to him to figure out the enigma which surrounded him in every direction.

Once the last member, Tonks, disappeared through the door, Malfoy stood up, and struted leisurely across the floor until he was next to the chair which Hermione was sitting in. Then, he knealed next to her chair, and calmly slipped his fingers into her hands, and held them tightly.

Hermione felt her heart beat racing forward for an unexplainable reason. She felt as if she should know him, that he was someone who was very important to her before she lost her memory and disappeared to the island of Crete. His features were so similiar to someone that she knew even before they were friends. He was a puzzle, an enigma that would not get solved easily.

But, before any questions could be asked, he alleged, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes widened in recognition, and she gasped, "Draco?" After he nodded his head, affirming her suspicions, she let go of his hands, and immediately hugged in the position they were currently in. However, Malfoy quickly stood up, making the positioning a bit more comfortable for the both of them. Neither cared much though for, Hermione shook her head into his shoulder, "It is alright Draco; it doesn't matter anymore."

She felt tears falling from her eyes, but before she could wipe them away herself, Malfoy did so himself, and then in a perfect moment, he slowly kissed her for the first time in over three years.

She was finally home with the one that she loved the most, and he could truly make all of her troubles disappear.

* * *

**A/N**

I'm so sorry that it has taken over a month to update! But, the past few weeks have been really busy with finals, and stuff. Then, the beginning of summer activities. Hardly any time to write!

Anyways, I really hope that you enjoyed chapter 6, and hopefully chapter 7 will be updated this week.

Thanks for reading, and a review would be appreciated greatly.

**Verbeia**


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